


Trouble by Design

by HiroMyStory



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Lucifer, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Chloe KNOWS, Developing Relationship, Drama, Existential Crisis, F/M, Happy Ending, It’s good to have people who care, Post-Devil Face Reveal to Chloe Decker, Post-Season/Series 03, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2019-11-13 03:51:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 76,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18024122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiroMyStory/pseuds/HiroMyStory
Summary: This time, they do pick up where they left off. Only Chloe’s not sure accepting the Devil should be this easy, and Lucifer doubts anything so good should come from killing Cain. Meanwhile, the murder of a dockworker lands on Chloe’s desk, and Dan fears past actions will have consequences.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm really excited to be posting this! A good part of this fic is done, beginning, middle, and end, but there's tons of editing to do and several recalcitrant scenes I'm still working out. I plan to update on Wednesdays. I’ll add some Sundays if I can stay far enough ahead on the draft. This was, when I started, my first Lucifer fic, but it was a lot, so I put it aside and took awhile to get back to it. So happy to finally be getting it done!
> 
> Thank you so much to ObliObla who is helping me beta this.
> 
> I appreciate any and all feedback! I love hearing what you think, including constructive criticism. Seriously, I love talking about this show, writing, etc. You can also find my on Tumblr at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hiromystory.
> 
> EDIT: Season 4 aired after chapter 11, so we're now officially canon-divergent!

The elevator was locked. It was only the second time it had ever been in Chloe’s experience. Luckily, she remembered the code from the last time. Lucifer had made no effort to hide it from her when he’d entered it into the keypad then.

Chloe’s heart beat wildly as the elevator rose. She had been compartmentalizing like mad since the loft.

The penthouse was dark, illuminated only by the back-lit bar.

“Lucifer,” she called out.

She heard a shuffle, movement, and then the sound of a door closing. As far as she knew, there was only one of those in the penthouse.

She turned in the direction of the noise. “Lucifer?”

She stepped on something that crunched and skid under her shoe. It almost looked like… She pulled out her phone, thumbed on the flashlight feature, and knelt for a closer look. It was a bullet in a small pool of blood. Gasping, she looked up. In the beam of her phone, she saw more than a dozen spent bullets, each coated in blood. Her sense of dread intensified.

“Lucifer?” There was a slight waiver in her voice now.

She heard a thud from the direction of the bathroom.

She made her way there and found the frosted-glass door closed.

Raising her knuckles, she hesitated for a moment before rapping lightly on the glass. “Lucifer?”

She heard movement on the other side of the door.

“Lucifer?” She touched the glass as if that would help her sense him.

“Detective. What are you doing here?”

Chloe could hear the tightness, the strain in his voice.

“I came to talk.” She hesitated again, but when Lucifer didn’t say anything, she continued, “It’s a lot. Like really, really a lot. But I wanted to hear it from you and…and understand…”

“What’s to understand? You saw.”

Chloe couldn’t help her eye roll, even though he couldn’t see. “Oh, I don’t know. Life, the universe, and everything?” she tried to joke.

She was met with silence and the door didn’t open. She could tell he was sitting on the floor on the other side, so she sat as well, leaning against the door. She was contemplating her next salvo, when she heard him chuff.

Her patience was rewarded when he finally spoke. “Well, I suppose we should start with the big bang, which in my parents’ case was an actual bang. And nine-months later—take the nine months or give an eternity—they had a healthy baby universe. Now, we could debate whether they were _good_ parents to newborn Baby Universe. I’ve read somewhere ‘it was good,’ however.”

Chloe’s lips twitched at the very Lucifer response. At least, until she remembered she had to take it exactly literally now.

“So does that mean the world is really only like 10,000 years old?”

Lucifer snorted. “Of course not.” After a pause she heard him mutter something including the words, “stupid book” and “bloody literal minded.”

“Alright,” she said. “So you. How do you end up in L.A.? Did you really come to…Earth, I guess…in 2011 when your records start?”

“Indeed. Oh, I took little vacations to the earthly plane from time to time—never more than a few hours or a day or two at most—before Amenadiel would be sent to take me back. 2011 is when I…relocated permanently.”

“So…you’re here to stay?”

“I don’t intend to go back to Hell. Bloody dreary place. My father may or may not agree. Hard to tell with him.”

His father. God. God, for god’s sake. She stifled a slightly hysterical laugh.

“But you could, uh, leave permanently? Leave h-he…” It was weird to get hung up on that word, she thought. With all they were talking about.

“Hell,” Lucifer finished. The slightly lighter tone in his voice vanished again. “Well, I _did_ leave. It hasn’t been without complications. I’m retired. He’ll just have to accept that.”

Chloe knew Lucifer well enough at this point to hear the hesitance in those last words even without being able to see him. Her heart did an alarming flip-flop at that uncertainty, the possibility that God might _not_ accept it

Chloe rested her cheek against the glass. His voice was close, and she imagined he was also leaning against the door. Inches away, just on the other side.

Her fingers found another bullet on the floor. She brought it up to her face, and saw it was slick with blood.

“Lucifer, why are there spent bullets on the floor?” she asked.

There was a familiar put-upon sigh from the other side of the glass. “After you were shot, Pierce ordered his men to open fire. I protected us. With my wings.” The last was said in a rush.

“You were shot?!” she cried in alarm.

“Well, yes. But I’m well on the way to healing by now. When you’re not around, it happens fairly quickly. The bullets just sort of popped themselves out. Bloody painful, but done fast enough.”

“Wait, you have wings?” She’d gotten stuck a few sentence back.

“Yes, I told you they were back,” he said as if it was old news.

“Um. Yeah. I guess you did.” There were so many things he’d said she was going to have to go back and re-evaluate now.

But… “What the fuck. You had wings, you cut them off, and you got them back. Seriously what the fuck.”

“Seriously that’s ‘what the fuck’ you get hung up on?” he joked.

“Tip of the iceberg.”

“I’m sure.”

There again was that touch of…bitterness? Fatalism? Chloe touched the door with her fingertips. It was harder to judge without seeing him. And her brain caught up to something else he’d said.

“Wait. What do you mean you heal pretty fast when I’m not around?”

“Funny thing happened after I met you. I started experience little bouts of mortality. Turns out you quite literally make me vulnerable, as I once told you.”

“What?”

“You quite literally make me vul—“

“I heard you, but—“ She shook her head, although she knew he couldn’t see it. “So—wait. I’m resistant to your charms and your eye-voodoo, and I ‘quite literally make you vulnerable.’ Why?”

“Smart detective,” he said.

She waited for him to continue, but he did not. “Why, Lucifer?”

“That’s a whole ‘nother apple from a whole ‘nother tree. Are you sure you don’t want to concentrate on what’s in front of us?”

“Why, Lucifer?”

She could hear his sigh through the door. “Oh, I don’t know. It might have something to do with you quite literally being a miracle.”

“What?” Chloe’s mind could supply no possible explanation for Lucifer’s statement.

“To start, I want to say I didn’t know any of this until we’d worked together for quite some time. Apparently, during Warden Smith’s trial, Amenadiel met your mom, and he recognized her. I learned that a little while later. My Father sent him to bless a woman who was having trouble conceiving a child—first and last time He ever asked such a thing of Amenadiel.”

Chloe’s heart had begun to pound erratically. This was too fantastical. “Me? The child was me.”

“Yes,” he said. After a heavy pause, he added in a strained voice: “I realized that my Father had put you in my path. It was…hard.”

Chloe’s mind was spinning. What could that even mean? _God_ had created her? For some reason related to Lucifer? That didn’t make any sense. She was her own person. She’d lived most of her life before she’d even met Lucifer. But she _was_ immune to his charms which, judging from his reaction way back when they met, was quite a novelty. And apparently she made him less…immortal.

She hadn’t even believed in God, 24 hours ago.

“Chloe?”

His use of her given name startled her. It took her back to their moment on the balcony—could it have been only three nights ago? No, she was getting distracted.

“I’m thinking,” she said, pulling on the bullet necklace she’d started wearing again after that moment.

A memory, previously lost in the chaos that had followed, returned to her. Him storming into her bathroom, demanding “Did you know?” just as she realized she’d been poisoned. Later, him visiting her in the hospital and telling her that she looked “heaven-sent.” It had only been when she’d thought back on the moment trying to make sense of what had come after that she had thought he seemed profoundly sad when he said it.

“You found out when I was poisoned,” she said.

His voice was hoarse when he finally answered. “Yes.”

“What does this even mean?” Chloe was flushed and a bit nauseated.

“I…don’t know,” Lucifer said. “I thought I did.”

Chloe opened her mouth, but no words came out.

In the silence, Lucifer continued: “Forgive me. This is difficult. When I learned…this, we were just talking about maybe getting together. I…came to believe that what…what had been between us…wasn’t…real. That everything, our time together from the beginning, was engineered by my Father as part of some manipulation for reasons known only to Him.”

His words came haltingly, and Chloe could hear the hurt and uncertainty. Chloe had to close her eyes at the sudden sharp pain in her chest. She pushed her hand, balled into a fist, against her heart.

“How could you believe that?” Her voice sounded strangled, even to her own ears.

He scoffed, and she heard something—she presumed the back of his head—hit the door. “Where to start. From this being right up my Father’s alley, with his stupid, manipulative, ineffable Plans. To that I had my mum and brother whispering the same thing in my ear. Even Maze believed it. To…well, you just seemed too good to be true. That someone like you could choose of her own free will someone like me.”

“Oh, Lucifer,” she whispered.

“So I hurt you. Something I never wanted to do. So you could be free of m—free of my Father’s manipulations.”

Chloe very well heard the elided “free of me.” The pain of it clutched at Chloe’s heart. How could he have believed that? That their partnership, that their feelings, weren’t real?

“But then an amazing thing happened,” he continued. “You chose someone else. On the one hand, it was what I wanted. You free to move on and choose for yourself. On the other hand, it killed me to see you with him. And I realized something. If you could choose someone else, then you must have had choice all along.”

Chloe gasped. She swore to herself then and there that she could never, ever tell Lucifer what she had told Ella: that he’d been the reason she’d started dating Pierce and that he’d also been the reason she ended it. Her heart was beating out of control again.

“Chloe, say something.”

“That’s a lot, Lucifer. I need…some time to think about it.”

“For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry, Chloe. The truth is I have no idea why my Father put you here.”

Chloe wanted to tell him it was okay, but right now she felt like it was anything but okay.

“Anyway,” he said softly, “maybe it’s for the best.”

He was giving her whiplash. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” she asked with a sinking feeling.

“After what happened today. Me killing Cain. Pierce, I mean.” His voice was very soft now. “I’ve ruined everything.”

“Lucifer, what are you talking about?”

“I killed a human.” She could hear the shame in his voice. “I can’t take that back.”

Chloe hadn’t thought as much about Pierce’s death as maybe she should have, caught up as she was in Lucifer being really, _really_ the Devil. But Pierce was dead, and at Lucifer’s hand. She didn’t want to minimize that. She’d been there herself. Had killed in the line of duty. It was hard and it was confusing and she still second guessed herself sometimes.

“Lucifer, he was dangerous. He was trying to kill us. I’m sure it will be classified as a justifiable homicide. Everything will be fine.”

“Detective, you don’t understand.” So she was back to ‘Detective’ now, it seemed.

“Explain it to me, then,” she said.

“Angels are forbidden from killing humans. It’s my Dad’s first rule. And I—I—”

He seemed to be struggling for breath and she thought she heard him whisper something. She turned more to the door, pressing her ear against the glass and dropping her hand to the floor to brace herself. Her finger brushed against one of his under the edge of the door. He’d been reaching toward her under it, it seemed. She dared not move for fear of scaring him off.

“Lucifer?”

“There’s no ‘justifiable homicide’ for angels, even if that’s how it was.”

“Then it’s a good thing you aren’t one,” she said, trying for a lighter tone. She felt his hand jerk, and she slid her fingers a little further under the door to keep their contact. “You’re living here with us. Life is complicated as I know you’ve seen. Sometimes there aren’t good choices.” A terrible thought occurred to her then. “Unless you are suggesting I’m going to Hell because I’ve killed in the line of duty…”

“No. No. Never!”

“See, then?” she reassured.

“It’s not the same. You…you are…a good person. When you’ve had to do what you had to do it was because it was truly the only choice. You would always find another way.”

He had so much faith in her it nearly took her breath away. She wished what he said was entirely true. “No, Lucifer. The real world is much messier than that. Sometimes we have to make decisions in the moment. Complicated, messy decisions.”

“You don’t understand,” he said again. “I-I’m glad he’s dead. I’m glad I—”

He stopped so suddenly Chloe imagined him choking on the words. But the blank wasn’t hard to fill in. It was also one she understood very well.

“Listen, I _do_ know how confusing it is to deal with a shooting. When…when I shot Malcolm Graham. He was about to raise his gun. Shoot you…again. So I fired.”

“Of cour—”

“Don’t interrupt, Lucifer. Yes, I was doing what I thought I had to. But I was also glad. Glad he was dead. Glad…” It _was_ hard to say out loud. “Glad I shot him. And I…I’ve struggled with those feelings. But it doesn’t make what I did wrong.”

“You’re putting the best possible spin on my actions.”

“And you’re putting the worst,” she countered.

He didn’t reply.

“Fine then. What were your intentions? Tell me.”

She couldn’t even hear him breathing anymore. For the longest time, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then she heard him take in a breath.

“I-I don’t know. I don’t know.” He sounded so lost for a moment. But then his demeanor changed again. “It perhaps won’t surprise you to learn, Detective, that my Father is rather…Biblical in His Judgment of these things.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that. She _didn’t_ know his Father. She wasn’t sure how to reassure him. The best she could do was try to be there for him. Even if he didn’t believe it, she did know what he was going through.

She moved her little finger, stroking back and forth along his.

“Lucifer…”

“Detective.”

“Why are you hiding in the bathroom?”

This time the silence went on and on. Chloe had had to wait out Trixie on many occasions, and she drew on that patience now.

When Lucifer finally spoke, it was so quietly that she almost couldn’t hear him. “It won’t go away.”

She almost had to ask him what he meant, but then she understood.

“In this, I suppose, the judgment is more my own than my Father’s.”

Chloe didn’t know how that worked, but she followed what he meant. “He would have kept coming after you. He said as much.”

“I could’ve dealt with that.”

“He hurt a lot of people, and he would have hurt more people if he’d gotten away.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Okay,” she said. “But we’ll work through it. Together.”

They were silent again for several minutes, but she continued to caress his fingers under the door.

“Lucifer, please open the door.”

“I hate doors.”

“Lucifer, please open the door,” she repeated.

He didn’t respond for the longest time, but then he pulled his fingers away. She heard him moving followed by the click of the lock.

When he didn’t open the door, Chloe reached up and turned the handle herself. She pushed the door open just enough to slide inside. The bathroom was even darker than the rest of the penthouse, at this hour, but she could make out his silhouette as her eyes adjusted.

Lucifer was still sitting on the floor, now with his back to the wall just to the left of the door. His face was turned up and away from her. Hiding, Chloe realized. She could see the red flesh of his neck above the open collar of his shirt, of the underside of his jaw, of the bare back of his skull. Speaking through the door, it had been easy to forget this bit of new reality.

Her heart was beating much faster now. She felt strangely faint and yet strangely sure. Almost like she was having an out-of-body experience. Her heart kept doing weird little drops in her chest.

He was as still as if he had turned to stone, but she could hear his rapid breathing. Even as she moved closer to him, he did not turn his head toward her. She feared he wouldn’t let her touch him, so rigid was he, with one arm braced on the floor as if it was all that was holding him up. She settled for inching closer to his side until she could slowly slide her arm under his and around his back.

If it was possible, he stiffened further, and she heard his breath catch. She didn’t want him to bolt. Very cautious now, she raised her other hand and let it settle on his chest. Then, she brought her head to rest next to her hand, face tilted down in deference to his discomfort. When he made no move to flee, she let herself lean more solidly against him. He relaxed infinitesimally as she settled in, and she let out a breath she had been holding.

She had no idea what she was doing. She doubted he’d often been this vulnerable, and that was a scary thought.

Her finger tips were resting on bare flesh where the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. It felt warm and smooth and tough. She willed her heart and her breathing to slow, and eventually she felt his begin to do the same. Moving by instinct, she curled further around him, letting her fingers slip inside his shirt so her palm rested flat over his beating heart. Her cheek came to rest again directly on his warm chest. It felt strange, but at the same time it felt like him, _Lucifer_. His same familiar smell. The solid shape of him familiar from the few times he’d held her over the years, each etched in her mind.

After several long moments, he raised his arms and, after hesitating, rested them around her. They sat like that for many minutes. She felt his heartbeat continue to slow under her fingers, and the rise and fall of his chest under her cheek evened out as she breathed against him.

When it seemed like they might stay like this forever, she lifted her head and looked up at him. She found him looking back down at her. That ravaged face she’d seen at the loft now seeming calm and sad. Those glowing eyes peering down into hers. She could see more of the Lucifer she knew in this face now. She leaned upward to press her lips against his. They were dry and still, and she saw the surprise in the widening of his fiery eyes.

She brought her arm from behind his back up to wrap around his neck, using it to draw herself up and closer, until she was pressed against him. She let her other hand slide up to his shoulder, still under the edge of his shirt, making sure he felt her touch.

And then he was kissing her back, softly, hesitantly, at first. His arms came around her more firmly, his hands on her back, tentative, but there. The position was awkward, so she swung her leg over his so she was straddling his lap, raised up on her knees. She cupped his cheek as she parted his lips with hers. His sudden intake of breath stole her own, and she deepened the kiss.

Then it happened. She watched the glow of his eyes dim until they returned to their normal dark brown, and his familiar visage reasserted itself. She gasped, pulling back a hairsbreadth.

“Lucifer, your face.”

He looked at her confused, until she drew her fingers down across stubble. His hand flew up to join hers as they both felt his features. A look of naked relief passed across his face. His eyes closed, and he breathed in a huge breath and let it out again.

“Chloe, you are a miracle,” he whispered, the start of a smile breaking across his face.

“So you said,” she teased. “But I think you are giving me too much credit here.”

“No, I’m not,” he said, grinning now and caressing both sides of her face.

His joy and relief were infectious, and she found herself grinning back.

She leaned forward, resting her forehead and nose against his, and they just stared at each other, smiling like idiots.

With a laugh, she sat back, landing in his lap.

And gasped.

She felt his arousal pushing against his suit pants beneath her and froze. It felt like a sudden change in temperature in the room. They stared at one another, uncertain.

She wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, but then their lips were crashing together, not gently this time. His hands were on her again, no longer hesitant. And she was pushing herself against his need and not like she hadn’t imagined doing so dozens of times before. He gasped into her mouth, or she into his, and then his tongue was caressing hers.

Maybe it was all the stress and adrenaline of the day. Her body felt like a live wire. Her sudden _need_ overwhelming.

So she found herself pulling at his clothing just as much as he was pulling at hers. He didn’t seem to want to stop kissing her, even for a moment, even as she pulled him down over her. In the end, they weren’t undressed any more than minimally necessary when he entered her. Yet, it wasn’t a moment too soon.

She gasped, clinging to him as he moved insider her. There was something in his eyes and how he held his body. Something desperate.

It was over quickly, on both their parts. Chloe was left shuddering under him until her pleasure subsided. After his release had ended, he seemed frozen, braced over her as if afraid to put his weight on her. Finally, he pulled out and rolled to her side. They were both catching their breaths.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t very… Wasn’t very artful of me. I—that wasn’t very like me.“

She wanted to laugh. She’d had quick and dirty sex with the Devil himself on the floor of his bathroom, and he was worried about his bedroom reputation?

“Oh, Lucifer.”

“Let me make it up to you,” he said.

She found she was being lifted up in his arms and he was carrying her to his bed before she even knew what was happening.

Her heart was beating stupidly fast again. Everything was happening way too fast. Nothing about this was very like her, either.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the feedback on chapter 1 and joining me for chapter 2! I know it's only the second one, but I think it might end up being my favorite!

Lucifer watched as Chloe made her way to his bathroom the next morning. He’d smirked and made the obligatory remark about shower sex, but he made no move to follow, needing a moment to think.

The last twenty-four hours had been truly inexplicable. Her being here perhaps the most inexplicable part of all. Bloody impossible, really.

After the false start in the bathroom, last night and this morning had been…revelatory. He was all for new experiences, and when it came to sex, there wasn’t much he hadn’t done. Yet, with Chloe… He knew Dr. Linda would say something about emotional intimacy—contrary to her belief, he _did_ pay attention.

Maybe Chloe was right, and everything would be alright. The rest of yesterday could fade like a bad memory.

He got up and went to the closet to dress. He could hear her singing to herself from the bathroom. He’d never heard her do such a thing before and grinned. He couldn’t imagine what he’d done to deserve her. His smile slipped a bit at the thought. He didn’t deserve her…not really. Yet she was here nonetheless.

He didn’t understand how something so good could come out of yesterday. He felt a churning in his stomach that he suspected might be guilt. Wasn’t it _wrong_ for anything good to come out of what had happened?

Dressed and groomed, he went to go make coffee, but ended up sitting on the couch instead. He wanted the Detective to be right. He did. But she didn’t know. Didn’t know the pleasure he’d taken in killing Cain. In assuring he’d go to hell.

He saw the flicker of flame out of the corner of his eye. He looked down and gasped. His hand had slipped into his Devil form again. He concentrated, willing it to go away. It remained stubbornly red. He lifted it up and stared at it in fascination.

He startled when he heard Chloe’s voice calling out from the bathroom: “Can I borrow one of your shirts?”

And just like that his hand flickered back to normal flesh. He tried not to let his voice shake when he yelled back, “Take whatever you like, love.”

He was still sitting, staring at his hands, when she came over and squeezed his shoulder.

“Everything alright?”

“With you here, darling, what could possibly be wrong?”

She smiled at him warmly before coming around the couch to slide in at his side. His heart squeezed. How could she look at him like that? He pulled her head to his neck so she couldn’t see his smile waver, uncharacteristically not under control. That he could simultaneously feel such joy and this churning in his gut seemed quite improbable.

“Are you sure everything is alright? You seem…quiet.”

“Not the introspective type, I know,” he quipped.

“Lucifer.” She looked up at him. “Tell me. Please.”

She was getting far too good at detecting his dodges. “I don’t know what else there is to tell.” He caressed her hair, making sure to smile reassuringly. “Quite a lot happened yesterday. You have been…remarkable. But the rest of it…”

He shook his head. He didn’t understand what he was feeling much less could he explain it.

She kissed him lightly. “We’ll find our way through.”

He nodded, and she wrapped her arms around him and just held him for a little while. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, but he found it shockingly reassuring.

“Speaking of,” he said finally. “What does the LAPD think of yesterday’s happenings?”

Chloe shifted away to sit facing him, which he regretted.

“There’s a question. After you left yesterday, I called Dan. I shared a very abbreviated version of what happened at the loft, and we agreed he should contact Internal Affairs. He told them everything he knew about Pierce, and they sent IAG detectives and officers to the scene. They also took custody of John Barrow from Dan.”

Lucifer nodded. For all this time he’d spent working with Chloe, he’d never bothered to learn much about the internal workings of the organization.

“They interviewed me for quite a while. I couldn’t tell them much about after I was shot, and I didn’t…speculate about what I didn’t see.”

“And how did you explain my absence?”

“I…suggested it all might’ve been a little too much for a civilian consultant.”

Lucifer snorted.

“Before IAG got there, I…did my best to get rid of the feathers. But I certainly couldn’t get rid of all trace evidence. I take it your blood won’t, in fact, test normal?”

“I highly doubt it. But then again, most people will go out of their way to explain away the unusual.” He gave her a sly look.

She shrugged. There wasn’t much she could say to that. “I also secured a couple of Pierce’s men who’d been injured. I don’t know what they saw…or _know_.”

“They were,” Lucifer recalled, “remarkably unfazed by…well, me. I daresay Cain _shared_. But—I’m sure you’ll find—they are unlikely to be believed even if they decide to tell the truth. It’s not the ‘divine’ part of the incident I’m most concerned about.”

“Your arm,” she said seemingly out of nowhere. “Why isn’t that healing?”

“The blade Pierce had. It was forged in Hell. Quite capable of killing a celestial being.”

Chloe had a stricken look on her face, but he wasn’t sure what he’d said wrong.

“It’ll heal. Just take a bit longer, that’s all.”

“Probably best we show that wound to the detectives. Jacket, too. How’d Pierce even have something like that?”

“Pretty sure it was Maze’s.” That left a bitter taste in Lucifer’s mouth.

“Maze? How?”

“That’s a question I’d very much like answered myself.” Maze had betrayed him to work with Cain once already. It was hardly a stretched to think she had done so again. He simmered.

Chloe’s gasp brought him back to himself. His eyes, he realized. He averted his gaze immediately.

“Sorry,” he choked out.

“No, no it’s okay.” She caught his chin and dragged his gaze back to her. “It’s…I’m not used to it, but it’s…”

She seemed at a loss, and he didn’t see how it could possibly be okay.

She changed the subject. “Maze. Tell me.”

“She…worked with him before. Kept me distracted when he was…courting you.” He smiled just a bit when she snorted at his choice of words. “When I thought my Father was controlling me…when I wasn’t sleeping, remember?”

“Lucifer.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen better.”

He waved off the apology. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel guilty.

“But why would Maze…?”

He shook his head. “That, you’ll have to ask her.”

“I’d like to do that. But we have a few other things to get through. The IAG detectives want to interview you. I told them I’d have you come in today.”

“Do they know I…?”

“I’m sure they have a reasonable suspicion. I explained that Pierce was trying to kill us—you in particular. Protecting yourself…protecting me…that _is_ justifiable homicide, Lucifer.”

“But—”

She put her fingers against his lips. “No ‘buts.’ I know you feel guilty, but it’s the truth that he was trying to kill us. It’s the truth that you were defending yourself. That’s the _truth_ you need to tell the IAG detectives. We’ll work through the rest.”

Lucifer didn’t know that he agreed. But, with her looking at him like that, it was hard to argue. He nodded his assent. He could skirt the other truths with human law enforcement. Would do so for her.

“Lucifer…”

He could tell she didn’t want to continue, but she did, brave Detective.

“Pierce was my ex-fiancé. He put you on record as assaulting him the day before. Dan is my ex and his girlfriend was murdered with a gun _we_ found at an innocent man’s house. Ella didn’t witness that much and she’s our friend. Maze’s knife might have killed him, but my bullet was still in his arm. There’s another, _untrue_ story that could be told here…”

He swallowed. That might be, but Lucifer wouldn’t let it happen.

* * *

Chloe drummed her fingers on her desk resisting the strong urge to pace. Detectives Carlin and Rodriguez from Internal Affairs had been interviewing Lucifer for over an hour now. She hated not knowing how it was going.

She was crushing a paper coffee cup when the interrogation room door opened and Detective Carlin caught her eye. Chloe stood up way too quickly as she walked toward her.

“Detective Decker, do you mind joining us? We’re just about finished talking with your civilian consultant and thought it might be helpful if we all sat down for a few minutes to wrap up.” She gave her a friendly smile.

“Sure,” Chloe said, moving to follow. Her stomach was churning. It wasn’t like she’d never brought two suspects into a room together for a “casual chat.”

They caught Detective Rodriguez in mid sentence: “…during the fight. That blade penetrated with incredible force. Pierce was a big man. My theory is he fell during the struggle, landing on the knife while he was still holding it.”

Carlin shot her partner an annoyed look. It seemed clear to Chloe that Lucifer’s charm had worked better on one of the detectives than the other.

Lucifer had been nodding along while the detective spoke. “He was still holding the knife, yes,” Lucifer confirmed.

“I knew it,” Rodriguez said, pleased.

“Detective!” Lucifer addressed Chloe. “Have you met the astute Detective Rodriguez, and his lovely partner Detective Carlin?” Despite the laid-on charm, Chloe could hear the strain in his voice. She hoped it was only because she knew him so well.

“Yes, Lucifer. They interviewed me yesterday.” She sat down by his side.

“Really, we’ve been through everything. Just a few last questions,” Carlin said. She closed a folder open on the table as if to emphasize the point. “Make sure I’ve got the sequence right.”

She looked at Chloe. “Was it before or after you discharged your weapon at Marcus Pierce that you were shot?”

Chloe couldn’t quite remember. It had been close to simultaneous. “I’m not sure.”

“After,” Lucifer supplied.

“When did you two start investigating Marcus Pierce?”

Chloe wondered if Lucifer had been vague on that point. He’d known about Cain a lot longer, something they very much needed to talk about. “When Detective Espinoza brought his concerns to us the day after Charlotte Richards died.”

Carlin kept her gaze on Chloe. “Detective Espinoza, your ex-husband.”

“Correct.”

“The two of you have remained close since the divorce.” A statement, not a question.

“We’re friends. And obviously we work together. I trust Dan’s judgment as a detective.”

Lucifer couldn’t contain his scoff, and she sent him a dirty look.

“What’s the nature of your relationship?” Carlin asked, looking between Chloe and Lucifer.

Lucifer shot her a panicked look. Hardly a poker face.

“It has been, historically, platonic,” Chloe supplied. “But we are currently discussing whether to pursue something additional.” She hoped her tone conveyed her disdain for the question.

“And you were also engaged to Marcus Pierce,” Carlin continued.

“The Detective is hardly over-sexed, if that’s what you’re implying.”

It was sweet, in a way, that he was protective. But now wasn’t the time. This was designed to rile them up. “I was, briefly, but we broke up.”

Carlin nodded as if it was all meaningless, and turned her attention back to Lucifer. “After Detective Decker was shot, you got her out of the room and away from Pierce and his men, correct?”

“That’s right. It was a near thing, but she was safe.”

Carlin leaned forward. “But then after you took Detective Decker to safety—why did you go back?”

“I—He would have come after us.” Just what Chloe had told him the night before.

“So _you_ went back, alone? No calling for backup. No letting the LAPD handle it.”

“I didn’t—He wouldn’t have stopped.”

“So you went to _stop_ him? What did you intend to do?”

“I went back—I don’t know what I intended when I went back,” Lucifer admitted. He stared at a spot near the corner of the burnished metal table, but then he seemed to remember what he needed to say. “But Pierce _did_ attack me. He shot at me. He attacked me with that blade.”

“Maybe it started as you say. Maybe Pierce attacked you. But you were angry. Maybe you saw an opportunity to kill a rival—”

Lucifer shoved away from the table, turning in the chair toward her. The metal chair scraped loud on the floor with the abrupt movement.

She saw his eyes as he looked away from the detectives. They burned. Worse, she saw a little flicker of flame along his hand where it remained hidden under the table. She needed to get them out of this interrogation room. Right now.

It wasn’t too hard to lay on the indignation.

“ _We_ didn’t ask for any of this. _We_ didn’t hire a goddamned mythic criminal mastermind as a police lieutenant. He turned _our lives_ upside-down. And when we discovered him he tried to _kill_ us.”

She grabbed Lucifer’s arm, yanking him to his feet. He kept his eyes downcast.

“Unless you have more serious questions, this interview is over.” She shoved Lucifer out the door ahead of her.

* * *

Dan arrived at the precinct at three in the afternoon. It was the last place he wanted to be, but Detective Carlin had asked him to bring in Charlotte’s files on Pierce. He had faith that blame would land where it should. Especially with several of Pierce’s men in custody. He had plenty of questions for Chloe and even more for Lucifer. But those could wait. Right now, he just wanted to be home with his grief. He felt like he could sleep for a week. Maybe a year.

He was surprised to see Chloe and Lucifer coming out of the interview room. Even more surprising, the tall man seemed to be leaning on Chloe for support.

“Chloe, I _can’t_.”

Dan noted both the use of Chloe’s given name and the desperation, perhaps even fear, in the usually-arrogant Lucifer’s voice. He didn’t catch Chloe’s response. She pulled Lucifer down a hallway toward the restrooms. She was shielding him from view, but Dan thought he caught a flash of something…almost like flame. Concerned, he followed after them.

Chloe shouldered open the door to a supply room and practically shoved Lucifer in. What the heck? Dan pushed the door open behind them.

Chloe whipped around and saw him, panic written all over her face. “Dan! Get out of here!” she cried, trying to shove him out the door.

But Dan was immovable as he stared.

There, in the middle of the room, wearing Lucifer’s suit was a…creature. No. Not a creature. The Devil. Red, scarred flesh. The occasional lick of flame.

Dan tried to shake his head, as if that would clear his vision. Make this image disappear. It didn’t.

This was real. How could this be real? He dared a glance at Chloe. If he hadn’t believed it, the way she was looking at him would have convinced him. “Dan…” she said.

The Devil looked up and met his eyes with burning ones that seemed to sear into Dan’s very soul.

He found himself backing toward the door, and then, with a sob, he ran.

* * *

Chloe wanted to go after Dan, but she knew she couldn’t leave Lucifer as he was. She locked the door.

He looked…stunned. Like he was having trouble processing what had just happened. She did the only thing she could think of and wrapped her arms around him. He went from rigid to trembling. “It’s okay,” she murmured over and over.

When she looked up, his eyes were still burning, his skin still red. She wondered briefly if she should be alarmed at how quickly she was getting used to this.

“You should go after him,” he said in a gruff voice.

“I will. But not yet.”

He tried to pull away, but she held onto him. He might pretend not to like Dan, but he didn’t fool her. Somewhere along the way he’d been won over by her ex.

She put her hands on his cheeks. “Look at me. It’s going to be okay. He’ll come around.”

“You don’t know that,” he said, shaking his head. “Your reaction…has been unusual. Daniel’s was a bit more typical.” He frowned, lost in thought.

“What?” she asked. She watched as his features reverted to the familiar, although she didn’t think he realized it.

“It’s just…he reacted like…he’s carrying a great deal of guilt. That’s certainly not good. You should consider talking to him about that.”

“You can talk to him about it.”

He scoffed. “I doubt it.”

She ran her thumb against his scruff to let him know his appearance had changed back.

“Hmmmm,” was all he said at first. He pulled away, and straightened his clothes. “You really should be going after Daniel now.” He was heading toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my penthouse. I can’t bloody well be out and about if I can’t control _this_ ,” he said, gesturing vaguely at his face.

* * *

Back at his apartment, with his door locked and barricaded with the credenza, Dan gulped in huge breaths. He tried a breathing exercise he’d learned in improv to get himself under control.

This couldn’t be real. He’d snapped. The grief. The pressure. It had been too much. He’d have to check himself into an institution. Trixie’s visits would be supervised by a concerned Chloe. He’d get pudding every day. He’d…could the Devil find him in an institution? Yeah, probably.

And Chloe. Chloe _knew_. How long had she known? She let Trixie…

If the Devil was real, that meant… _everything_ was real.

Heaven, angels, demons, Hell…Hell. Charlotte…Charlotte had told him about her dreams of Hell after her near-death experience. That was real. She’d seen it? She’d changed her entire life…

Hell… He’d had a man killed…he’d had a man killed with a demon. He was going to Hell. Hell was real, and he was going there.

* * *

Chloe knocked on Dan’s door. There was no response. She knocked again. “Dan, it’s me.”

After a moment, she heard someone approaching inside.

“Just you?” he asked through the wood.

“Just me.”

She heard something being moved from in front of the door before it opened. She held in her gasp. Dan was a wreck. He stood aside for her to come in. She glanced at the credenza out of place.

“You knew!” he accused.

She nodded. “I just found out, though.”

“And you’re _okay_ with this? He’s the _Devil_ , Chloe. The actual _Devil_.” He shook his head as he struggled with the reality.

“Same as he’s been telling us from the beginning,” she reasoned. “I know him. So do you. He has his flaws, but he’s _not_ what he’s made out to be. _We_ know that.”

Dan shook his head in denial. “No _we_ don’t. I don’t know that.”

“Dan…”

“No, I can’t talk about this. I need to think. I need some time.”

“I…understand. But please. I’m here if you need to talk.” She reached out to take his hand, but he pulled away.

He looked away, staring at a painting Trixie had made him that now hung on the opposite wall. “Maze. Whatever she is. I don’t want her anywhere near our daughter. Luc-Lucifer either.”

“Dan, that’s not...Maze isn’t even around, and Lucifer’s not—”

Dan held up his hand. “No. I need you to agree to this. Until I can figure out where to go from here.” He was looking past her again.

She studied him, suppressing her knee-jerk response to refuse. Maybe it was for the best. Give Dan time to recover. Maybe give them all time to recover.

“Otherwise, I’m gonna ask my mom to fly in, take Trixie after school for a few days, maybe take her overnight, too…”

“Dan!” Chloe protested. Trixie needed the normality, and Chloe needed Trixie.

“I talked to her earlier.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Charlotte. Your _ex-fiancé_.”

Chloe recoiled as if she’d been slapped.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Okay, I’ll ask Lucifer to stay away. Just for the week. And only if you promise me you won’t do anything drastic and…you’ll talk to Lucifer before the week’s over.”

He stared at her. “Are you making deals _for_ the Devil now?”

“Dan, I just want all of us to get through this.”

“The actual Devil, Chloe.”

“He’s just Lucifer,” she countered.

“Fine. I’ll talk to him. Deal.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand how you’re so okay with this. Just—be careful.”

She didn’t have a response to that. She couldn’t explain something she didn’t understand.

Just as she was about to go out the door, he called out to her again. “Chlo, will you ask him? About Charlotte? She was terrified. Terrified of going to Hell.”

Chloe nodded, leaving with a heavy heart.

* * *

Chloe pulled up in the pickup lane at Trix’s school, a little early. Chloe’s head was buzzing. She dreaded talking to Trixie about Charlotte. And what should she tell her about Marcus…Pierce…Cain?

Glancing at her phone, she saw she had a voicemail from Detective Carlin. Carlin was letting her know that Chloe would be on paid leave at least the next few days, but there was also a sort-of apology for how the interview had been conducted, which gave Chloe some hope.

She shot off a text to Lucifer letting him know she’d talked to Dan; that she was picking up Trixie; that she’d call him later.

Dan’s words niggled at her brain. She didn’t know why she was so okay. She just was. Like she told him, she knew Lucifer. She almost sniggered as her tired mind took another turn. Now she _knew_ knew Lucifer. And what would Dan have said to that? Sleeping with the ‘actual Devil.’ She shook her head. Should she be this okay?

The pickup lane had filled in while she was lost in thought. It was a typical sunny L.A. day and all the kids streaming out of the building just looked so _normal_. Chloe’s heart hurt with longing for a moment. But just then she caught sight of Trixie bounding out along with her friend Ayana. Chloe got out of the car to wave her daughter over.

“Mommy!” Trixie exclaimed, running up in pleased surprise. But her smile disappeared suddenly. “What’s wrong?”

Chloe tried to keep her expression relaxed despite the frown that threatened. Ah, her perceptive daughter. “Some stuff happened, so I got the rest of the day off. Thought I’d come pick you up.”

“It’s just I had to stay at Ayana’s house for _two_ nights, and you _never_ pick me up anymore.”

“Oh, monkey,” Chloe said, kissing her daughter’s head. “I’ll tell you about it when we get home.”

“You’re okay. Daddy’s okay?”

“Yes, yes. Daddy’s okay.”

“And Maze and Lucifer?”

“Of course.” It was a bit of a lie since she didn’t know where Maze was or what she’d done. “Now, did you have fun with Ayana?” Chloe said before her daughter could ask about anyone else.

* * *

It was after eight when Trixie finally fell asleep. Chloe eased her way out of her daughter’s bed. Careful not to wake her but unable to resist the urge to push sweaty curls away from her face. Her hand lingered on her daughter forehead before brushing away the residue of tear tracks. 

Her daughter had taken the news about Charlotte hard. Her monkey was a perceptive girl, and she immediately wanted to call her dad. So Chloe had dialed Dan. She hadn’t been able to keep her eyes dry as Trixie tried to comfort him. So adult for a nine-year-old. Too adult for a nine-year-old.

After that, Chloe had been left to explain Marcus’ role in all of it and that he too was gone. Trixie had gone stone faced before Chloe was done. She’d pulled her into arms and soon enough her stiffness had turned to sobs and finally sleep.

She was tough kid, her monkey. But the last couple years had been hard on her, much as she put on a brave face. Chloe promised herself that she’d ask Linda for a recommendation for a children’s counselor.

Chloe carefully closed Trixie’s door and crept upstairs. She wondered if it would be ethical if she started to see Linda. It didn’t seem quite right to see Lucifer’s therapist professionally, but who else, really, could understand?

She washed her face and changed into her PJs by rote. By rights, she should probably be freaking out. Her partner was the Devil. Instead, all she wanted to do was protect him. That wasn’t normal, right?

She shut her bedroom door, too. She didn’t want to wake Trixie, much less have her overhearing.

Lucifer answered half a ring into her call. He must have been holding the phone.

“Det-Chloe, I was worried you weren’t going to be able to call.” The uncertainty and insecurity was clear in his voice.

“I’m sorry. It was difficult telling Trixie everything that’s happened. Or at least as much of it as I had to. She’s…” Chloe sighed and settled onto the bed.

She could hear him breathing over the line and it was a moment before he spoke.

“I’m sorry this has touched upon young Beatrice.”

Chloe didn’t mean for her breath to hitch but it did. “Oh, Lucifer, I’m afraid I…I wonder if my Dad felt like this. Am I making her grow up too fast? I know what that—I don’t want that for her.”

She listened to his breathing again, before he finally said, “I can’t pretend I understand what she needs, but I can see every day how much you love her and put her first in your life.”

That was…how could he be so clueless sometimes, and then say things like that? “I-I wish you were here.”

“I can come over, if that’s what you desire,” he offered.

She wanted to say yes, but… “No, I-I told Dan I wouldn’t have you over with Trixie. Not until you and he talk.”

She heard his indrawn breath, and she could picture the hurt expression on his face. But what he said was, “That’s to be expected, I suppose.”

Switching the phone to her other ear, Chloe laid back on the bed. “Don’t be too pessimistic,” she said. “I really do think he will come around. He was freaked out, but he’s also grieving and confused. He did promise to talk to you. He’s stronger than you think.”

“I know. He’s surprised me more than once. I hope you’re right.”

“He…wanted to know about Charlotte. I know what you told me that morning after she died, but I thought it would be good if he heard it from you.” No sooner were the words out of her mouth when it hit her, what he’d told her that morning, what it meant. That she’d see Charlotte again in Heaven. That it was somewhere he couldn’t follow. Oh, it hurt. It hurt.

“Ah. I can certainly reassure him on that front, then. Thank you for…thank you for that.”

She knew he was worrying about how his life was changing. She tried to picture him in his penthouse. She thought he sounded like he was sitting or lying down. Maybe stretched out on his couch with a scotch in hand.

“How about you? How are you? I know today was a lot.”

“Oh, you know me, Detective. Chloe.”

Which was precisely why she was worried. “I do wish I was there,” she sighed.

She listened to his inhales and exhales for a while, and, apparently, he was content with the same. She wasn’t sure what to say to make things easier.

“Chloe…” It was barely a whisper.

“Yeah? I’m here.”

“You told Detective Carlin…Well, you told her we were just thinking about whether we want to…be something.”

_Ah_. “Lucifer, I…I didn’t want to talk about that with Detective Carlin. That’s why I said that.”

“I don’t want to presume.” A long pause. “But you must know I…”

She remembered him on the balcony before they’d kissed. He’d been so vulnerable. So unsure. But there had been that look in his eyes, the one that made her surer than she’d been in a very long time. “I do. Lucifer, I’ve had feelings for you for a long time. This isn’t…this isn’t casual for me.”

“Good. It isn’t for me either.” He sucked in a breath before continuing in an easier tone. “You’ll have to bear with me, though. This isn’t my usual…this isn’t how things usually go with me.”

She very well knew that. “Don’t worry, Lucifer. We’ll figure it out. Trust me?”

Another long pause, but she could hear he was still there.

“I do.”

She smiled, and moved her phone so she could wedge it between her ear and her pillow. She was getting sleepy. It had been a tremendously long couple of days. There was something else on her mind, though.

“Lucifer, ah, one other thing. Last night. We didn’t, ah, use protection. I have an, um, IUD, but do I need to worry about, well with you being…”

“Promiscuous?”

She choked on a laugh. “The Devil. I was going to say the Devil.”

“No, darling. I cannot catch or transmit a human disease. Being the Devil.”

“Convenient.”

“Isn’t it just?”

She was glad to hear him sounding more like himself. “Lucifer, I’m nodding off here.”

“It’s okay, love. Go to sleep. I’ll hang up.” And with that he began to hum to her before starting to sing softly.

She knew the tune but she was too tired to put her finger on it. Pretty soon her eyes were falling closed.

* * *

Dan had already been drinking for several hours when his phone lit up where it set on the arm of the couch. His heart thumped when he saw Lucifer’s smirking face. A picture the man—Devil—had installed for his number himself. Dan had puzzled over how he’d gotten past the passcode. He guessed that wasn’t such a mystery now.

Dan eyed the phone like it was a snake about to bite. Too paralyzed to even silence the ringing. He held his breath. One-Two-Three-Four-Five. He breathed out in relief when the call finally rolled over to voicemail.

It was about a third of a bottle of bourbon later that Dan picked up his phone. His notification showed a couple of texts from Ella and the voicemail from Lucifer.

_Hanging in_ , he texted to Ella. A blatant lie. The VM notification was cleared off his home screen, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. About the question he’d asked Chloe to pass on.

When it was too much, he took a swig from the bottle and pressed play.

_Hello Daniel. This is Lucifer. I’m calling because, well, the Detective, Chloe, told me your question. And, I-I’m not sure if I should leave this in a voicemail, but I don’t know if you want to talk to me. Right. Well. You don’t need to worry about Charlotte. She’s in the Silver City—Heaven, that is. My brother took her up there when she died. My brother, Amenadiel. So she’s safe and, well, that’s what I wanted you to know. Um, goodbye._

For a moment, Dan felt like he couldn’t breathe. Charlotte was safe. She was gone but she was _safe_. He felt suddenly grateful to Lucifer for calling. For being so _normal_. For… But then Dan remembered. Charlotte might be safe. But he wouldn’t see her again.

He ran to the bathroom, barely making it in time to throw the toilet seat up. His stomach clenched and he vomited, thin and brown. Three-quarters of a bottle of bourbon, combined with fear and regret.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely feedback on the previous chapters. I really appreciate it!

It’d only been a day stuck up in his penthouse, and Lucifer was already bored as hell. Pun intended. He’d hoped Chloe would come by today, but apparently the child was too upset about Charlotte’s death for school. So Chloe was home with her.

He’d done an adequate job distracting himself. He’d played piano; he’d cleaned; he’d read; he’d rewatched a season of _Bones_. He’d texted Chloe throughout. She always responded, even if it was only with the eye roll emoji. He smiled in spite of himself.

Night was falling, the sky over the city that deep blue of late twilight. Lights were coming on below. A few. Then several. And then many. Lucifer enjoyed watching from his balcony at this hour as L.A. put on its night garb. Even the lines of stalled headlights and taillights were beautiful from his perch.

Too bad it felt like a prison tonight.

He lit a second cigarette and gazed up at the darkening sky. Jupiter appeared as a point of light before any stars. There wouldn’t be many, here. Up wasn’t where he wanted to be looking, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Was Dad watching? What did He make of Lucifer now? He’d spent so much of this year determined to defy his Father. Now that he had, in the most spectacular way possible, it tasted like ashes in his mouth.

He crossed his wrists and leaned on the railing. These feelings. He wished he understood better. He felt light, untethered and at the same time like a weight was settling on him. He felt a dreadful anticipation—like Damocles’ sword was about to fall, the proverbial axe was hanging over his head, the other shoe about to drop, etc., etc. He felt like his ribs were banded tight in his chest and he couldn’t get a good breath in.

Too many feelings. It was too much.

After Uriel…his guilt and grief had been tightly bound together. Linda hadn’t been, well, available to help him. But that wasn’t true any longer.

He flicked the last of his cigarette away and pulled out his phone. He’d missed a text from Chloe. She’s sent him the emojis for soup and sandwich, a devil emoji and question mark. 🍜🥪,😈❓. His lips curled. That’s right, he’d asked her what she was having for dinner. He shot back a cigarette, a sunset over the city, and the milky way. 🚬🌆🌌.

He pulled up Linda’s contact and hit send.

“Doctor, can I prevail upon you to make a house call?”

* * *

Linda rode the elevator up to the penthouse with some trepidation. Lucifer had been quite agitated last night—and insistent that he couldn’t come to her. Linda had quizzed Maze, who was staying with her while she recovered, but she hadn’t known what had happened to Lucifer. 

She’d avoided Linda’s gaze, however, and soon enough Linda had the whole sordid tale of her collaboration with Pierce out of her. Told with Maze’s familiar combination of defensiveness and aggressive bravado. But there was shame and fear there, too. They’d ended up talking long into the night. Her celestial friends were far too good at inflicting damage upon one another.

Lucifer was hovering near the elevator when she arrived. He radiated nervous energy, fussing with his cufflinks and checking the lines of his jacket.

“Thank you for accommodating me regarding the location of our little session. You see, I don’t think going out right now would be a terribly good idea.”

She had to fight to contain her smile when she saw he’d rearranged the furniture to set up a couch and a chair separated by a coffee table with a small pitcher of water and a glass on it. He’d even placed a notepad and a pen on the chair.

“Please.” He gestured to the chair before taking a seat on the couch.

Simply telling her what had happened over the last few days took over half the session. It came in fits and starts, with various digressions as he fiddled with a glass of water. Her heart went out to him, it really did, before she forced herself back to a more clinical detachment. This was going to take a long time to work through.

“Why do you think you are having trouble controlling your devil face?”

“Isn’t it obvious, doctor?” He speared her with those dark, dark eyes.

“Why don’t you tell me anyway?”

“Because I judge myself worthy of it.” He finally broke his gaze, looking down at the glass in his hands instead. “Punishment _is_ my business after all.”

“Have you considered it was just a bad situation and you had to make a difficult decision?”

He huffed. “It was still my choice. Mine.” He set the glass down. “Just like I told Cain,” he muttered.

She raised an eyebrow.

“When he tried to make excuses for killing Charlotte,” he clarified. “Even though he didn’t mean to hurt _her_ , they were still his choices.”

“But he was trying to kill _someone_ , your brother,” she pointed out. “And he was trying to kill you that day.”

He didn’t seem to hear. “It seems unfair, though. Everything was…I was finally moving forward with the Detective…and suddenly everything falls apart? A little too convenient, maybe.”

She didn’t like the direction he was going. It felt like regression. “Sometimes we look for patterns or explanations where it is simply an unfortunate circumstance or bad luck.”

“It’s diabolical, really. He set everything up. Just to see me fail. Prove him right about me.”

Linda leaned forward in her chair. “Are you saying you _don’t_ feel you had a choice after all?”

“Oh, no. I definitely did. That’s the genius of it. Even after all these years, he’s still making me pay for me wanting _choice_. It’s rather an ingenious punishment, really.”

He turned away from her, but she knew he wasn’t done.

“But He knew…He saw where it would all lead when He put the pieces on the board, didn’t He? Probably played out every possible scenario in His little simulations. So He set me up to…He set me up to…”

She’d seen this before. How in times of high stress he fell back into speculation and paranoia about his Father. She’d never gotten him to speak of his time in Heaven except in the most general, almost allegorical terms. She wondered yet again what he’d experienced that caused his thinking to bend this way.

“Lucifer…Lucifer,” she said again until she had his attention. “I thought you’d moved past the idea that your Dad was controlling everything?”

“Oh, I don’t believe He’s controlling the day-to-day. I know I have no one by myself to blame for…certain things. But that doesn’t mean He didn’t set up the dominoes long ago. Making it so I can’t win.”

“What do you think He set up?”

“Well, that’s the question isn’t it? I know he ‘set up’ the Detective, didn’t he. He’s the only reason she _exists_. He put her in my path for whatever his reasons. And Cain, well, isn’t it just coincidental that he showed up in our lives at exactly that moment?”

The struggle with having a celestial patient was she herself was ill-equipped to know the line between grandiosity and paranoia and what might actually be happening behind the scenes. Was it really coincidence that a biblical figure ended up working in the same police precinct as the Devil? Who was she, Linda Martin, to say? That would be no help for her struggling patient, however.

“Whether what you say is true—and I want to stress that you _don’t_ know—I’d like to focus on your choices now.” She flipped open the notepad he’d left for her.

* * *

One of the benefits of being on leave was that Chloe could pick her daughter up from school, no need for after-school care. Another benefit was forced time to catch up with that back-logged list of household chores. To her (ironic) relief, being a single-mother Detective with a demon for a former roommate meant the list was _long_. No shortage of distractions.

When Chloe came up for air and finally glanced at her phone, it was after noon. No messages or texts from Lucifer, either. He’d told her he was seeing Linda, and she didn’t want to interrupt. But she’d have to head out out to pick up Trixie in a couple hours.

 _Everything okay?_ she shot him by way of text.

She kept glancing at her phone while she scrubbed the stove. It was nearly fifteen minutes before she heard back.

_Just as can be expected._

She grabbed her phone, keying in her passcode when her damp fingers wouldn’t unlock it. _Done with Linda? Should I come by? Gotta pick Trixie up by 3._

The response was quicker this time. _Nonsense, Detective. With traffic you’d barely be here and out._

She blinked at the response. Perhaps she’d misjudged his mood last night. But her phone pinged again.

_If you aren’t occupied, perhaps you could come by tomorrow once the urchin is at school? I find myself at loose ends._

She sent back that she would. He sent her a thumbs up and a smiley.

She stood chewing her lip, sponge forgotten in her left hand.

* * *

Lucifer poured himself a drink. Chloe had left a little while ago. They’d had a perfectly lovely lunch she’d brought in, and his devil face made no appearance, even when they talked about some of her celestial questions and later speculated about the investigation into Cain’s death. He couldn’t help that gnawing feeling that continued in his stomach, though, so he had to work to keep his smile plastered on. When she left, that feeling—guilt, he knew—only intensified. It was frustrating to no end, really. This amorphous thing that moved inside him that he couldn’t control, Dr. Linda’s thoughts notwithstanding.

Lucifer was enjoying the scotch and doing his best not to dwell on his current predicament when he heard a familiar ruffling noise behind him. His glass slipped in hand, thunking hard on to the bar. There was his brother in his Heavenly vestments once again. But. There was his brother.

“Amenadiel. I wasn’t sure I’d see you here again.” Lucifer hated the crack of emotion in his attempted nonchalance. So many unwanted feelings.

“I didn’t expect to be back so soon. But Charlotte—Charlotte asked me to look in on Dan.”

“I’m surprised now that you got what you wanted you’d care to come back to Earth so soon, and for a human.” Was that bitterness he tasted?

“I owe Charlotte so much. She showed _me_ the way home just as much I showed her.” Oh his brother’s bloody earnestness. That he had not missed.

“Well, your task may be a bit more difficult than you think.” He paused for effect. “Dan saw my Devil face.”

“Oh, Luci…”

“It’s not like I bloody well intended it.”

“It’s back?”

Lucifer sighed. Too busy flouncing around the Silver City to stay caught up, that was Amenadiel. “Yes.”

“How?”

“Cain. The ridiculous man ham had to go and try to kill Chloe, and, well, me.” Lucifer’s indignation faded a bit, and he continued: “He’s the one who killed Charlotte, you know. He thought killing you would get him his mark back.”

Amenadiel’s shock was written all over his face. “So you… A human, Luci?”

Lucifer nodded. “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he snarked. “Seems you were right about me all along. Everyone was.”

This time, Lucifer knew it when he slipped into his Devil form, even though it wasn’t intentional.

“No, Luci. I wasn’t. This is bad. Really bad. But you aren’t…you aren’t evil.”

Lucifer smirked, letting his eyes blaze. “Oh, Amenadiel, always a step behind.”

“That’s enough. I take the point. You can change back now.”

“Oh, if it were only that easy these days,” Lucifer lamented allowing himself a hint of drama.

“ _You_ are doing this.”

“You don’t think I bloody well know that?”

“Then you don’t need to do this to yourself. You’re _making_ yourself look like that.”

“It’s the truth, though, isn’t it, brother?” he shouted. He added, softer, “I thought for a moment…let myself believe for a moment…something else. But that was a lie. This is the truth.”

His brother regarded him with sad eyes, which sat poorly on Lucifer’s nerves.

“You can show yourself out. I’m sure Daniel will enjoy a visit from an actual angel to answer all his celestial-related questions.”

* * *

Dan hesitated before answering the door, but he was pretty sure Lucifer wouldn’t show up unannounced after his voice message. Which Dan hadn’t returned. So he slid the bolt on the lock and pulled it open.

He stood face to face with Amenadiel.

“Can we talk? My brother told me you know.”

“Amenadiel. Shit, man, come in.” Dan raked a hand through his hair. “I just swore at an angel. Shit.”

“You did.” Amenadiel laughed. “You also convinced an angel to try improv.”

“Which you were really terrible at…”

“Which I was really terrible at,” Amenadiel agreed. “I know this is very strange, but—”

“I don’t think you understand what kind of understatement that is.”

Dan gestured him in and to a chair in the living area across from the couch. Amenadiel folding his large frame down into the low seat was a sight. And _what_ was he wearing?

“I came to make sure you were okay. You’re my friend, and Charlotte was my friend. She cared about you very, very much. She’d want to make sure you were okay, if she could.”

“Charlotte. You were with her? At the end?”

Amenadiel sighed and nodded. “It wasn’t fair. There was nothing fair about it. But she was so incredibly brave.” Amenadiel’s eyes were somewhere else.

“Thank you for being with her.” Before he’d gotten the message from Lucifer, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Charlotte dying alone on that overlook. It was such a great comfort knowing she hadn’t been by herself after all.

“She’s in the Silver City now. She’s at peace.”

“L-Lucifer told me. Left me a message anyway. I-” Dan choked on the words, and Amenadiel seemed to read his confusion.

“My brother…you have to understand. He isn’t what he’s made out to be. I’m not saying he can’t be annoying, arrogant…”

“A dick, smug,” Dan interjected.

“A dick, smug,” Amenadiel agreed, “self-absorbed, vain, narcissistic…” Dan couldn’t help but smile before Amenadiel continued: “It took me a long time to understand my brother. He _isn’t_ evil. He was punished by Father, yes, and that isn’t my story to tell. But his role in Hell was warden…punisher. He didn’t decide who went and he had no interest in increasing that number. As for temptation…I think you’ve known him long enough to know the nature of _that_.”

“Why is he…are you… here?”

Amenadiel sighed. “He quit. Didn’t want to play…I think, at bottom, he just wanted to live his own life. But you should talk to him about that. And I…well, when he left Hell it was my duty to…” He shrugged. “It’s complicated actually.”

Amenadiel was so Amenadiel it put Dan strangely at ease. As if he wasn’t sitting in his living room discussing the Devil quitting Hell with an honest-to-God (ha) angel. Was it possible to get used to this shit? Amenadiel…he’d bailed him out for not understanding prostitution. It was hard to think of him as an all-powerful angel.

“Complicated. I bet.”

“Now, Dan, I can’t tell you the inner workings—”

Dan held up a hand, cutting him off. “Don’t want you to. Just…just trying to make sense of what this means to my life.”

Amenadiel nodded with that overly serious expression of his. “Dan, I’d like us to still be friends. And don’t judge my brother too harshly.”

Dan just nodded. He wanted to talk to Amenadiel about his fears, but how could he talk to an angel of all people about what he’d done? So, instead, he said: “Thank you, again, Amenadiel. It means a lot to know she’s safe.”

“She is. Besides, you’ll see her again one day, in Heaven.”

“Maybe,” Dan muttered.

“Of course you will! You’re a good man, Dan. You’re not planning on running off and doing something awful, are you?”

Amenadiel’s upturned lips told him that he meant the last as a joke, but Dan couldn’t return the smile.

* * *

Chloe’s phone pinged while she was driving to Lucifer’s place the next day. _You’ll need the code for the elevator_. She half expected to find him in his red form again, but she didn’t. She did find him smoking on his couch staring out toward the balcony.

“Hey,” she said.

He turned to look at her, and she sensed he’d been brooding. A Lucifer spending too much time with his thoughts could be a dangerous thing.

“My brother’s back.”

“Oh! That’s…good?”

She came to sit by his side, but he stood and began pacing before she could.

Lucifer scowled. “I think he pities me. Me!” He fiddled with a tumbler he picked up from the bar. After contemplating it for a few moments, he continued, “He didn’t come back for me. He came back to check on Dan.”

Chloe restrained a sigh. He was so easily hurt by his family. “But he did come to see you.”

“He could only tell me what I already know.”

Chloe leaned against the back of the couch, watching him moving back and forth in front of his bar. “And what’s that?”

He didn’t answer but did stop pacing. She waited him out.

“It’s ironic. I spent most of last year trying to get my Devil face _back_ when I thought it had been taken from me. Now I can’t get rid of the bloody thing.” He threw a glass at the wall behind his bar with enough force to crack it, causing Chloe to jump. “Careful what you wish for, indeed,” he said darkly.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen him behave violently before. She had. She’d pulled him back from the edge with suspects more than once. It was just that on those occasions—excessive though it was—his anger had an edge of righteousness in it. This felt different.

He stared at the damage and then at her, and he slumped a little. She hated seeing that defeated line in his posture.

“Hey, hey,” she said, putting her hands on his biceps. Hoping to help ground him, she applied pressure until his focus shifted to her and his eyes became a little less wild. “I’m here…I’m here. We’ll figure this out.” It felt like that had become her mantra.

He opened his mouth, and she was afraid he was going to protest. So she kissed him to cut it off. It was like a flip was switched, and suddenly he was kissing her back with desperation. His big hands were all over her, and before she knew it he had her backed against the wall.

She found herself moaning, caught in the moment. She hadn’t realized she had been this wound up, either, until it was all coming spilling out. He picked her up and carried her to the bed.

The sex was forceful, more physical than she was used to. But she felt a need rising up in her that matched his, and she let her nails dig into his back, her legs coming up around him.

In the end, whatever was pushing him ebbed. “Chloe, oh, Chloe,” he very nearly sobbed as he spilled into her.

She stroked his hair as he came down, trying to offer comfort. Sex wasn’t going to fix things for him, and a little part of her wondered if it was right to have dived into this when he was so obviously struggling.

He seemed calmer, later, as he examined his forearm. She saw the little red crescent marks that would match her fingernails.

“It’s…interesting…sleeping with someone who can actually…” He sounded thoughtful, maybe clinical.

She took his arm and kissed the marks.

* * *

After they’d dressed again, she sat with him on the couch, her legs tucked up under her, with her arms wrapped around him. She talked a bit about Trixie, her worries for her daughter. He reassured her that she was a good mother, but now she knew even better what a low, low bar his family had set. Plus, his suggestions all involved one form of distraction or bribery or another. 

When she trailed off, he joked about the party he was going to throw at Lux when “this was all over.” The costumes, the drinks, the music. He let his ideas run all over. His glee, though, was surface level. She knew he was papering over the fear that this would never “all be over.”

She leaned into his side, tightening her hold.

“I know you. You’re a good man.”

Lucifer stiffened in her arms, his hands dropping away from her, and she could almost physically feel him closing off.

“Lucifer, what—?”

His voice, when he answered, was low and gravel-filled. “That’s what you said about Pierce. More than once.”

Now Chloe dropped her arms. She didn’t know what to say in response to that.

He was a statue at her side, looking away toward the windows, so she got up. She went to the bathroom to give him space. It was almost time for her to leave, so she threw some water on her face, tidied up, and went to find her shoes.

He was still sitting where she’d left him when she came back from the bedroom. Still staring out toward the windows. She sat on the arm of the couch, blocking his view.

“Hey, I’m sorry. But I do know you, and you _are_ a good man. I know I said that about Pierce. I wanted him to be because that’s what I thought I needed. And he was actively working to deceive me…all of us.” He was still looking away from her, but she continued anyway. “But you…you I know better than almost anyone in my life.” She held up a hand to stop his protest. “Even if I don’t know everything about you…probably can’t ever know everything about you…I do know _you_ , what kind of person you are.”

She watched the emotions churning in his dark eyes. Before he could argue, she stood up.

“I really do need to go.”

* * *

Ella called Chloe that night to catch her up on the precinct gossip. Apparently, the Detective Bureau’s Deputy Chief and their RHD Captain had come in to address the 'Pierce situation.' According to Ella, they’d acknowledged the nature of the investigation into Pierce but otherwise been tight-lipped. Lieutenant Robinson was temporarily being reassigned from the cold case homicide special section to act as their lieutenant. Chloe knew Robinson, but not well. He’d been a senior detective in Homicide when she’d earned her shield, but he’d taken little interest in a junior detective. He’d left for cold cases about a year before she’d started working with Lucifer. A few months before Palmetto Street.

Ella was, of course, kept far from IAG’s investigation of Marcus Pierce and his death. As would be Chloe and Dan. But Chloe agreed with Ella that if the brass were acknowledging what Pierce was being investigated for, then IAG had likely found hard evidence. Which, in turn, made it much more likely that she and Lucifer would be in the clear.

The next day, Chloe learned through the grapevine that two homicide detectives had been arrested, along with several officers throughout the force, as part of the Sinnerman investigation.

That afternoon, Chloe received a call from Detective Carlin letting her know that she was recommending Chloe be allowed back onto active duty. She didn’t share anything about the investigation into Pierce himself. Much as Chloe was dying to know, she had a grudging respect for Carlin’s professionalism.

Carlin did have some parting words that pulled Chloe up short, however. “A civilian should not be put in the position of needing to use deadly force on a police matter. If you insist on continuing to work with your consultant, please make sure he receives some training on use of force and situation management. For now, I’m sure I can arrange for him to see the Department’s psychologist, if he doesn’t already have someone to talk to. He was a mess in that interview room. He obviously feels tremendously guilty, regardless of the situation the Sinnerman put you in.”

Chloe quickly reassured Carlin that Lucifer was seeing someone, but she felt a yawning pit of guilt in her own stomach. For all that Lucifer was what he was, he _wasn’t_ trained for this. In fact, his past—all his fear and insecurities about what kind of person he was—made it so much worse.

A few hours later, Chloe received a call from Lieutenant Robinson. Given the option of more leave and returning to work, she jumped at the latter.

After Trixie was in bed, she gave Lucifer a call. “The acting lieutenant says we can come back to work. I’m reporting in tomorrow.”

There was silence for a moment. “I can’t come back just yet, but I am sure you will fare fine without me.”

Chloe held in her sigh. She didn’t know how to help him, not really. “I understand,” she ventured. “But I hope you can come back soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casefic starts next chapter. 😀


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back and thanks for reading! Enjoy chapter 4!

Chloe paused outside the precinct entrance, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. Not without reason, it turned out. Stares and silence followed her to her desk before she heard the whispering start.

She was transported to right after Palmetto Street. That's how it had been then, too. But that was before Lucifer. Who wasn't with her now.

Her desk was clear. Gone was the paperwork she'd left out before the world flipped over. The stacks of folders waiting for her attention when she'd last sat in her chair. It was disconcerting. As if no one had expected her back.

Dan's desk was empty, too. The precinct was starting to feel like a lonely place when Ella spotted her from across the room, gave a finger wave, and made her way through the sea of chaos that was the precinct floor. Ella had her arms up before she was within five feet of her, and Chloe reached out to gratefully accept the hug.

Things snapped back into perspective. This wasn't Palmetto Street again. She had friends here. Things would get back to normal.

"Hey, girl. Finally! Place hasn't been the same without you three. Dan and Lucifer coming back now, too?"

"I hope so. Have you talked to Dan?"

"We've texted a bit. I think it's been a lot for him, losing Charlotte and then the shock with Pierce."

Yeah, thought Chloe, and add a huge serving of Devil on top of that.

Ella gave her a curious look. "Haven't you guys talked?"

"Not much," Chloe admitted, looking down at her desk. Dan had avoided her calls and she could guess a few reasons why.

"Ohhhhh. Because of you and Pierce. I get that. Rough. But you guys are the best exes I know. I'm sure you'll be back to normal in no time." Ella gave her a reassuring smile. "I can't wait until we have the whole team back together."

Before Chloe could respond, she saw Officer Rahman approaching.

"The LT wants to see you, Detective."

"Right, thanks." She gave Ella another quick hug. "I better get going."

The lieutenant gestured her into the office when she knocked on the door frame. He'd rearranged the furniture, but the office still had the sparse quality it'd gained when Pierce occupied it. She noticed remaining smudges of fingerprint powder on some of the file drawers.

Robinson watched her as she made her way to his desk. He hadn't gestured for her to sit. Chloe had the definite impression she was being appraised.

"Detective Decker, you left a good deal of open paperwork when you went on your little adventure. I expect you will start with that now that you are back."

"Yes, sir." She waited for him to say something more, but he was shuffling papers on his desk. She wasn't sure if it was a dismissal. "I'm glad to be back, sir, and look forward to working cases again."

"Baby steps, Detective Decker. Get your house in order first." This time he did add a curt "dismissed."

Chloe's hand shook ever-so-slightly as she turned the door handle. She'd like to say it was all in anger, but it was the part of her that wanted approval that was stinging. She shouldered the door open a little harder than she meant. _Get over it_ , she told herself with a scowl.

When she returned to her desk, it was no longer empty. The stack of file was at least ten inches high with a sticky note reading "priority" on top. Chloe took a deep breath, settled at her desk, and pulled the first folder off the stack. Forest Clay. For a moment, she was back at his place congratulating Charlotte on all she'd done to take him down. Her eyes were stinging and the words blurred on the page.

"Detective?"

Her head snapped up. Officer Rahman was hesitating across her desk with another stack of files in his arms.

"The lieutenant asked me to bring these by."

She gestured to her desk, not trusting her voice.

Rahman set the files down. "Sorry," he muttered. "Uh, I just want to say, uh, it's hard to believe Pierce was…and if you all hadn't…well, it was good work."

Chloe blinked, surprised. "Thank you, Officer Rahman. I appreciate that."

He ducked his head, and she watched, bemused but pleased, as he walked away. She assayed the piles of paperwork. Maybe it was better Lucifer wasn't back today, after all.

* * *

Dan had been antsy to get back to work. Sure, the department had been generous with the bereavement leave he shouldn't have qualified for—no doubt given the specific circumstances of the bereavement—but it had gotten to be too much. He didn't need any more time to think. So it was with relief that he re-entered the precinct that afternoon.

He'd been worried that people would look at him with pity. Instead, he was welcomed back enthusiastically by person after person. He wasn't completely sure that was better, but he tried to put a positive face on.

After the initial flurry, Chloe came over to his desk.

"Dan, I'm glad you are back. I wasn't sure…" She laid a hand on his arm.

He swallowed a surge of guilt. She'd called a couple of times to check on him, and he'd only sent back generic text messages.

"Chlo, thanks, yeah. I just really needed to get back into the routine, you know?"

"Tell me about it," she said. "Hey, look, if you want to talk, you know I'm here, right?"

He nodded even though he knew he wouldn't take her up on the offer. "Thanks, Chlo. Listen, I'm supposed to report to the new lieutenant."

"Good luck." Her hand lingered on his arm before she returned to her desk.

Lieutenant Robinson gestured him into his office right away when he knocked and shook his hand. "Espinoza. Glad to have you back."

"Thanks, sir. I'm glad to be back."

"I know this has been a trying time, but we're getting things back on track here. I'm going to assign you a new partner, and get you back in the regular rotation."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."

"Great." Robinson slapped him on the back. "We've got a couple of detectives on loan from Robbery. I'm going to assign you to work with Detective Mulvaney.

"John Mulvaney?"

"Do you know him?"

Dan nodded. "We were partners when we were coming up in patrol."

"Great! Then you should be a good match. I've got him sitting at Chen's old desk. He can brief you on his active cases."

Dan's head was still spinning as he left the lieutenant's office. _Shit shit shit_. Mulvaney had been before he'd met Chloe, before he got his head squared away a bit better. Mulvaney was a past he'd rather leave buried.

* * *

Chloe eyed Dan across the precinct floor. Since he'd gotten back from Robinson's office, it seemed like the half of the precinct that hadn't already greeted him on the way in had stopped by to welcome him back or offer condolences. Now, he was sitting across the desk from a detective Chloe recognized only vaguely. Robbery, she thought. The other detective was talking, and Dan was just nodding along.

It had been a week, and he hadn't kept his promise. When she'd ask Lucifer if Dan had reached out, Lucifer had only shrugged and said: "Darling, he made that deal with you, not me. I won't enforce it. Of course, if he reneges, it's up to you whether you keep your end."

Of course he might see it that way.

When she saw the other detective get up and head in the direction of the bathrooms, she took his seat across from Dan.

"Hey," she started.

He jumped as she startled him out of his thoughts.

"New partner?"

"Mulvaney."

"Didn't you used to…"

"Yeah."

So much for small talk. "I wanted to check in about, uh, it's been a week, and, well, you promised you'd talk to Lucifer."

He flinched just a little when she said the name. Lucifer. It pulled her up short. Thinking how quickly after they met 'Lucifer' had stop meaning _Lucifer_ and start meaning, well, simply him.

Dan stared at her like she like she'd grown horns. She forced herself to suppress her giggle at the thought when she saw his breathing was picking up.

"Dan, please."

"I have a lot of things on my mind, okay? More important things than the Devil!" he snapped. His eyes got round, and his voice dropped. "I can't believe I just said that."

"Dan, tell me what you need."

"Just give me some more time, Chlo, please?"

"Alright," she said. It wasn't like Lucifer was leaving his penthouse yet. Problems on top of problems. "But you can't ignore this. Please. Before he comes back to work?"

"Back to work? Chloe, how can you…I mean, now you know, what are you doing? Why does he even _want_ to…?"

"Talk to him and ask him yourself," she urged. "And if you don't want to talk to me about…what you are going through, please talk to someone else."

He glanced over her shoulder, and she turned to see Mulvaney walking back to his desk. She gave Dan a last smile and left him be.

* * *

"Still have something going with the ex?" Mulvaney asked.

Dan didn't want to discuss Chloe with him. "Joint custody for one thing."

Dan hoped he would leave it at that. And he did, because he launched into a story about his own ex. Mulvaney talked about as much as Dan remembered. Which was fine by him, really, since he was in no mood to carry any small talk. He fiddled with the bobblehead on Mulvaney's desk. He hated even that small similarity between them. If he'd hoped working would be an escape, it was a trap instead. Mulvaney waxed nostalgic about the old days and how great it was to be working together again…

…and Dan was a hairsbreadth from leaping from his chair. He'd yell until his voice broke while everyone gathered and stared. Somebody would call an ambulance. Maybe he'd try to tell them all about Hell and the Devil; corrupt cops and bitter mistakes.

"Earth to Espinoza."

Dan jerked his head up. "Yeah, man?"

"Rough first shift back, huh?" Mulvaney laughed. "Good thing the lieutenant only made you come in for the half day."

* * *

Far too few of the folders had moved to Chloe's outbox by the end of the day. She put her pen down and cracked her knuckles. It was a start. And, to her surprise, two more officers had approached her during the afternoon offering their congratulations.

Trixie was working on her homework at the kitchen table when Chloe got home. She dismissed the babysitter and shrugged out of her jacket.

Trixie hadn't looked up or said hi, which was unusual. Chloe slid into the seat next to her, and still she ignored her.

"Hey, monkey."

Nothing but a chin jutted away from her.

"How was your day?"

Her daughter shrugged one shoulder and continued to fill out her worksheet. Chloe stopped her hand.

"Trixie, babe, talk to me."

Her daughter jumped off the chair, yanking her hand from under Chloe's. "I don't wanna," she yelled before running to her room and wrenching the sliding door closed, causing all the drawings pinned to the wall to flutter like butterflies.

Resting her elbows on the table, Chloe put her head in her hands for the briefest sliver of time before following her daughter.

Trixie lay on the bed with her arms crossed and her back to the door. Chloe settled onto the bed behind her. She brushed her daughter's hair back but Trixie turned her head, knocking her hand off. Deciding when to give a nine-year-old space and personal autonomy and when not to was one of the greatest challenges of parenting. She pulled her into her lap.

Trixie remained bone-stiff right up until the moment she went limp as a rag. Chloe gathered her close. She tucked her face into the crook of Chloe's arm. Chloe could tell she was crying, but all she could hear were little gasps and shuddering exhalations. Too quiet. When had she learned to be so silent? Chloe stroked her back until the shaking in her little shoulders subsided.

"Trixie, babe. Remember when we talked about never having to pretend with each other?"

Trixie tucked her face even deeper into her arm, and Chloe thought she wouldn't get an answer. But then: "Mommy, I don't want anyone else to leave."

"Oh, sweetie." Chloe pulled her closer. She didn't know what to say that wouldn't feel like a lie. "I'm here. I'm here."

"Maze left. Then Miss Charlotte and Marcus and Lucifer. And Daddy's sad. Even Mrs. Baczynski left."

Snot and tears were pooling at Chloe's elbow, and she had no idea what to say so she just held her as the minutes ticked by, feeling like she was failing.

"Monkey," she said, sitting her daughter up. "I bought stuff to make pizza. Why don't we do that, you and me." She wiped the tear trails as best she could. "Then we'll give Daddy a call while it's cooking. We can call Lucifer, too." Chloe hoped that would be alright.

"Okay."

When they had finished tossing cheese on the dough, Trixie said, "I got sad during spelling. I was thinking about Dad and Miss Charlotte."

Chloe kissed her forehead. "I was sad today, too. It's okay to feel that way."

Trixie nodded. "Mrs. Keane sent me to the nurse's office. I didn't like that, because then the other kids saw."

Chloe handed her the package of pepperonis. "Do you want me to talk to Mrs. Keane?”

Trixie shrugged again. "It's okay."

While the pizza cooking, Chloe dialed Dan. He didn't answer until the fourth ring. She stepped out of earshot to share what Trixie had said before giving her the phone. Trixie, leaning against a couch cushion with the phone pressed to her ear, looked so young and so grown up at the same time. Chloe fussed about the kitchen, giving her the privacy to talk to her dad. Chloe sent her to wash up when she was done and used the moment to call Lucifer.

"Ah, just in time, darling. You are interrupting…absolutely nothing. How was the first day back? Surely the place has been falling apart in your absence."

She snorted. "Hardly. It was all paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork. I'm not sure the new lieutenant is my biggest fan."

"Not sorry I missed that, then." But his tone said the opposite. "And this new lieutenant, what possibly could he dislike?"

"I don't know. Listen. Trixie wants to talk to you. Would that be okay? She misses you."

Chloe bit her lip as the silence extended.

"Of course. Put the urchin on."

"Just—she's fragile right now."

"Worry not. I'll be a good Devil."

This call Chloe almost supervised, but she gave Trixie space again, returning to the kitchen. She heard a short laugh and looked up. It was barely a smile, but it was there. Chloe joined her on the couch when she'd ended the call.

"Want to watch Finding Dory again?"

"Sure, Mom."

* * *

Dan spent his first days back conducting followup interviews in Mulvaney's open cases. It was easy work and that was just fine with Dan. He was filling out reports on his latest batch when Mulvaney loomed over his desk.

"Good news. We've got a call."

Mulvaney insisted on driving to the scene and made the trip with sirens on even though there was no urgency for homicide to arrive. When they parked, the site was only just being secured by the two officers first on scene. Mulvaney strode up to one, giving him a genial greeting and a slap on the back. Before Dan could join them, the officer handed something to Mulvaney and went back to stringing up police tape.

Mulvaney grinned at Dan and flashed a rubber-banded wad of bills before slipping it in his jacket pocket. "Early bird catches the worm, just like back in the day. Now let's see about catching the bad guys."

Dan frowned at Mulvaney's retreating back. Just like back in the day, indeed.

After an afternoon of canvassing, it seemed likely their vic had been gunned down by a rival dealer. Mulvaney requested that some unis pick him up. He told Dan they could let him stew in holding, and suggested they grab a couple beers at The Paddock. Dan declined. Instead, he went home and drank until he blacked out.

The next several days passed in a blur. Dan had been on the job for almost twenty years. He knew the moves by rote. Even hungover in the mornings and drunk by evening. He ignored Mulvaney's obvious corruption and pretty much everything else. Easier just to let things float on by.

* * *

Chloe rapped her knuckles on the lieutenant's door frame once her patience ran out.

"Sir," she ventured. "May I speak with you for a moment?"

"What can I do for you, Detective Decker?"

"I'd like to get back in the case rotation. I've been on desk duty for almost a week now, and I've cleared out all of my paperwork backlogs. I understand I've been cleared by IAG, and I just want to get back to work."

Robinson gave her a hard look. "Given I'm short several detectives, I suppose I'll have to."

Chloe blinked. She _wasn't_ getting off on the wrong foot with another lieutenant, even an ostensibly temporary one. She just wasn't.

"Sir?"

"You've always been a cowboy, Decker, right from when you made detective, even before you started working with that reckless civilian consultant. And I'd end _that_ arrangement if I could. But for some reason the Deputy Chief has told me to let it be."

Robinson squinted at her as if that would answer the mystery before tossing down his pen. Chloe watched it skitter across the desk and nearly topple off.

"Previous lieutenants may have tolerated your risk-taking. It won't be acceptable under my command. Is that understood?"

Chloe wanted to defend herself, her record. But she knew it would only make things worse. "Yes, sir."

She fled the office and was positively shaking by the time she got to her desk. This time she was sure it was with both anger and humiliation.

Ella's voice startled her out of her simmering thoughts. "Everything alright, girl?"

She gave Ella a look, lips-pressed tight. The middle of the precinct floor was not the place to discuss her run in with lieutenant.

"Right. Heeeeeyyyy…do you have time to look at some…evidence…with me…in the evidence lab?"

Chloe sighed, but she really did want to talk, so she followed Ella into the lab. Ella let the blinds down. She pulled up a stool for Chloe and gave it a little pat before pulling up her own.

"So…?"

"It's like deja vu all over again. The new lieutenant…he hates me."

"Come on, Chloe, it can't be _that_ bad."

"No really. He thinks I'm a loose cannon. Ella, I have one of the highest clearance rates in the department. I _trust_ my instincts. Sometimes that means taking a few risks. He makes it sound like that makes me a _bad_ detective."

"No, you're badass, Chloe. I'm sure he'll come around once he sees you work."

She had a strong memory of digging in the dirt at the Firehawk Ranch with Ella. It seemed so very, very long ago.

"Pfffft." Chloe blew at a piece of hair that had fallen into her face. "I guess we'll see."

* * *

When Chloe was finally assigned a new case, it was without fanfare. The desk sergeant called her one morning before she headed into the precinct and gave her the address of the crime scene.

She entered the address near Vernon into her GPS. There was almost no traffic once she turned exited the highway. She rolled past small warehouses and the occasional wholesale store front, most closed. The grass in the tree boxes was long in front of most the properties, and the concrete was cracked and hadn't been repaired recently.

When she turned the last corner, she saw activity midblock. The cruisers and the forensic van. Right. Not a lot of crowd control needed out here.

Two unis were poking through the grass on the side of the warehouse with probe rods. The large garage door on the front of the building was rolled up. Chloe ducked under the policer tape and made her way inside. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Even with the crime-scene stand lighting set up around the body and the fluorescent shop lights hanging from the ceiling turned on, the place was dimly lit. She spotted Ella speaking to one of the other forensic techs. She gestured toward something to the far side of the body, and the other tech moved off. When she glanced up and saw Chloe, she gave a big wave, coming over to her.

"Chloe! Welcome back to the mean streets. I knew it was only a matter of time. Can't keep a good woman down and all that."

"Thanks, Ella. It's good to be back. So what do we have?"

"Gunshot to the back of the head. Preliminary time of death sometime yesterday evening, between 1800 and 2300. Come over here."

Chloe followed Ella and crouched down near the body with her, waiting for her to provide her assessment.

Instead, she said: "Where's Lucifer?"

Chloe raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, I thought now that you had a case, he'd be back. You know."

"He should be back soon. For now, it's just us."

"Okay, then. Well, singed hair suggests close range, and my preliminary examination suggests a significant downward angle of the wound. That will have to be confirmed by the autopsy, of course, but…"

"An execution," Chloe finished.

"Yeah. We haven't found a shell casing."

"Just the one gunshot?"

"No. There's some bruising around the wrists and here." She tilted the head to show Chloe some bruising on the left cheek and jaw. "All pre-mortem, but the bruising is recent."

"So a fight or he was manhandled to get him here. Any ID?"

"We haven't turned him, but we're finished with photographs if you want to. Coroner's wagon isn't going to be here for another half hour at least."

Chloe waved over a uniformed officer who was sweeping the floor with a flashlight.

"Ma'am?"

"Help me turn the body. Ms. Lopez is going to look for a wallet."

"Bingo," Ella said, extracting a wallet from the front pocket of the jeans with her gloved fingers. Chloe and the officer—Atalifo she noted from his name tag—eased the body back. She gave him a nod of thanks.

Chloe pulled on fresh gloves and took the wallet from Ella. She opened it, carefully rifling through.

"Aaron Wiśniewski."

"I went to high school with a Wiśniewski. And a Witkowski, and a Wróblewski…what? It was Detroit."

Chloe smiled and shook her head. "California driver's license, credit cards, TWIC card."

"Dock worker?" Ellas suggested.

"Maybe. Car registration. Insurance card. Jamba Juice punchcard. Photo. Looks like our vic with a woman, another man, and a teenager. Older photo. The DL says he was 44, but he's maybe in his twenties here."

Chloe sat back on her heels.

"What is this property used for?"

"Storage," Atalifo answered. "The owner is over there. He's the one who found the body and called it in. Apparently he owns several of the properties on the block. Autoparts dealer with a bodyshop up the street. Says he just uses this one for overflow."

Chloe nodded. "Thanks. Sorry to interrupt your canvas."

"No problem, ma'am."

She rose and strode toward the man smoking a cigarette in the farthest corner of the warehouse from the body. She noted his hand was shaking.

"Detective Decker," she introduced herself.

"Brian Pendergrass."

"I understand you found the victim?"

"Yeah. Yes. I came in this morning to pick something up and I…" He swallowed. "Never seen a dead body before."

"I understand. I have a few questions, if you don't mind."

"Yeah, of course."

"What time did you find him?"

"About 7 a.m. The door was unlocked, which isn't right. I turned the lights on. At first, I thought it was a bum sleeping in here. It's happened in one of our warehouses before. I went to wake him up, but then I saw the blood."

"Okay. Do you recognize him?"

Pendergrass shook his head.

"Does the name Aaron Wiśniewski mean anything to you?"

He shook his head again.

"Okay, have you noticed any unusual activity around the property?"

"No. The occasional petty theft or scrappers. A couple of homeless squatters, like I mentioned. But nothing like this. I mean, if we hadn't run out of bulbs for the work lamps, it could have been a week or more before I was in here. These properties have been in the family, but we don't use most of them anymore. We're holding on to them waiting for the right time to sell. A distillery is opening a few blocks west and there's a dispensary a block north of that, so."

Chloe nodded.

"Anyone else come in here that you know of?"

"Not really. Couple employees, but nothing recently. Do you think this has anything to do with us?"

"Don't know, but I appreciate you speaking with me, Mr. Pendergrass. Will you give me a call if you think of anything else?" She handed him her card.

On the way out, she inspected the door. It appeared the lock had been jimmied. She called one of the forensic techs over to photograph it.

* * *

Chloe drove by the address on the driver's license. It was on the third floor of an older apartment building. No elevator, she hiked her way up the stairs. No one answered her knocks, but a neighbor poked her head out on Chloe's third try.

"They both work," the woman said.

"I'm looking for the residence of Aaron Wiśniewski."

"Yeah, that's it. Him and his girlfriend. But you'll have to come back later."

"Did you see Mr. Wiśniewski yesterday?"

The woman gave her a hard look. "I don't want to get in the middle of any more drama between those two."

Chloe nodded. She'd come back later.

Back at the precinct, she dug into her vic's ID. He did indeed work at the Port of Los Angeles, as a longshoreman. Had done so for the last fifteen years. He'd lived at the apartment for nearly that long. No criminal history. Social media was set to private but his profile pictures generally showed him and his girlfriend together. Her name was Margret White. Nothing obviously interesting about Mr. Wiśniewski, much less anything that would lead to being executed in quiet warehouse in a quiet neighborhood.

When Ella returned to the precinct, she queried whether her team had found anything else. Some fingerprints to run from the body and the door and the coroner should be conducting the autopsy today, tomorrow at the latest.

Chloe debated between a call to the office that operated the Port or an in-person visit. She preferred to see people face to face, and had no competing leads besides, so she made the drive.

Chloe introduced herself to the receptionist at the Port administrative building and asked to speak to someone about Aaron Wiśniewski. She was ushered into a conference room where she waited for nearly twenty minutes. She took in the floor-to-ceiling windows with a splendid view of the port. The room was decorated with models of cargo ships in glass cases, oil painting of tugs and ships, and various industry logos and flags. She was watching a ship maneuver in the harbor when three men and a woman in suits bustled into the conference room.

"My apologies, Detective. I'm Patrick Kerns, the Senior Director of the Port. I wanted to make sure we had everyone who could answer your inquiries. We're happy to speak with you."

He held out his hand, and Chloe shook it. She turned toward the other three people.

Kerns made introductions. "This is Carolyn Collins, our general counsel. Joseph Milewski, our chief of dockside operation. And John Russo, the president of the longshoreman's union. Please have a seat."

Chloe followed suit as the others sat around the conference table. This was an unusual reception when she hadn't yet said why she was here.

"Thank you for taking the time. I'm Detective Chloe Decker with the LAPD. I'm here because I'm investigating the death of Aaron Wiśniewski, and I understand he worked here."

Milewski and Russo gasped, and Chloe's best guess was that their surprise was genuine. Kerns looked at them expectantly.

"He worked the day shift. He's been with us for almost fifteen years," Milewski explained to his boss.

Kern's confusion also struck Chloe as genuine.

"What, why did you think I was here?" she asked.

Kerns looked uncomfortable. "We had an accident early this morning. One of the harbor tugs ran over a launch running without lights. Possible smuggling. We've been dealing with the Coast Guard all day. We assumed…"

"Ah. Mr. Wiśniewski was found dead this morning and probably died yesterday afternoon or evening. Any chance the two events are connected?"

Kerns' brow furrowed. "It's hard to see how. It's what we were trying to figure out when you came in asking about Wiśniewski." He laughed as if it was all a bit of a joke at his expense. "Joe?"

"Nothing that I know of."

The conference room door swung open and a man dressed in a Port Police uniform nearly fell through it. Kerns gave the officer a puzzled look.

"Sorry I'm later, sorry I'm late." He held out a hand to Chloe. "Gavin James. I'm to be your liaison with the Port Police. Anything we can do to help."

Chloe shook his hand and told him she appreciated the cooperation.

"Perfect, then," Kerns said. "I'll leave you in the hands of Joe and Officer James. It's been a busy day, as you can imagine."

He and Ms. Collins took the opportunity to leave the room. That was fine with Chloe. She turned to the remaining men.

"Did Mr. Wiśniewski have any problems on the job?"

"Not that I recall, no," Milewski answered. "No complaints or disciplinary issues I know of, but I can pull his file for you."

"Appreciate it. Anyone he didn't get along with?"

Milewski shook his head and glanced at Russo.

Russo shrugged. "I can ask around but…nothing I know of. He's not…he wasn't the most social guy, ya know? Got his job done and went home. Think he had a girlfriend, maybe."

"Do you know if he had any connection to the area about Vernon?"

Russo and Milewski shook their head. Chloe looked to Officer James.

"Didn't know the guy," he said. "That where he was killed?"

Chloe nodded.

"So what's the connection with the Port?"

"Don't know if there is one yet. I noticed the cameras at the gate I came in. Do all the gates have cameras?"

"Certainly. I'll have one of our techs download the gate footage—"

"We can do better," Milewski broke in. "Good part of Wiśniewski's day will be on video. Just the nature of this place."

James shrugged. "Pulling that much video will take a bit of time, but I can have an officer run it over to your precinct, Detective. Anything else we can do?"

"Not for now, but I appreciate your help." She shook each of their hands feeling no closer to the killer than when she arrived.

Chloe drove by Wiśniewski's apartment again, but she could see from the outside that the windows were all dark.

* * *

Chloe glanced at her watch. It was late and there was no point in driving back to the precinct. She made the drive to Lux on autopilot. Tiring and fruitless as the day had been, she found herself unexpectedly content as she rode the elevator up to the penthouse.

She found Lucifer playing the piano. She recognized _Satellite of Love_. It made her smile thinking about the other times she'd found him like this.

When he turned and saw her, his face lit up as the song trailed off.

"Detective!" he greeted. "And how is LAPD's finest? Long day catching the bad guys?"

He was grinning, but she thought his tone sounded a little forced. She knew him well enough to know that all this time cooped up nearly alone was not good for him.

She made her way closer, taking a seat on the bench alongside him. This, too, was familiar from many occasions. But now things were different. She could…

She leaned into his side with a sigh, resting her hand on his thigh, caressing inward.

Ah, that off guard, pleased smile. Any time she could surprise it out of him she would hold dear.

"Long day. Still working on catching the bad guy."

"Well, I'm sure you were brilliant."

She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course you were," he murmured. His lips were close to hers, and she tilted her head inviting him to close the gap.

The kiss was a lazy exploration, and she was happy to let him take it slow. She parted her lips, inviting his tongue into her mouth with her own. Still, he took his time with little licks against her teeth before he deepened the kiss. One of his hands rested at her waist, and she could feel his thumb lazily caressing back and forth. His other hand rose to her cheek, tilting her head just so.

She made a little noise of want that might have made her giggle in other circumstances but right now felt like nothing so much as an earnest expression of her being. She turned toward him, clutching his inner thigh in a way she knew was possessive but also not moving beyond a kiss for the moment.

When they broke apart she was panting and a little dazed. She didn't think he looked that much better off. But the look of soft adoration in his eyes was so much better than the sadness.

"Listen," she said, squeezing his leg. "It's been long enough. It's time to come back to work. We've got a case…and I need my partner."

She was sorry to bring some of the shadows back into his eyes.

"Chloe…" he breathed. "I don't think it's a very good idea."

"I think it is," she insisted. She stroked his cheek. "It's time to get back to normal."

"What if—"

She placed two fingers against his lips.

"Don't worry about the 'what if.' We'll take things easy. I'll be there with you. Besides…" She gave him her best attempt at a flirty smile even though, before they'd gotten together, he'd teased her about how ridiculous that looked more than once. "I miss spending the day with you, and just ducking in here before I have to pick up Trixie…"

He tilted his head, looking at her. Her fingers were still on his lips when he smiled. He nipped at them. After she'd laughed and snatched her hand away, he said, "Alright. Let's give it a try. I…miss you, too."

It was a little bit of a strange sentiment given that in some ways they were closer than ever, but she understood him.

"So how much time _do_ we have until you have to be off to pick up the little urchin?"

"Enough," Chloe told him.

With a grin, he rose, somehow scooping her up as if she weighed nothing. Which, to him, was probably true. She felt all the heat that had built during their kiss as it seemed to rush to her center.

"Never enough," he said after he dropped her on the bed. "But we'll make do."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments, and I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Chloe pulled into Dan’s apartment complex a little before 8 a.m. She’d just dropped Trixie at school only to have her daughter in a panic about the book report she’d left at her dad’s. She was praying…nope, no…hoping Dan was up but hadn’t already left for the interviews in Van Nuys she knew he had planned for today. She jogged along the sidewalk toward his building. She’d promised Lucifer she’d be at the precinct before him—which really was a given—but she also wanted a little quiet time to get organized.

Thinking of the day ahead, Chloe almost ran smack into a large form on the landing of the stairs to Dan’s apartment.

“Chloe!” Amenadiel said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Chloe thought he sounded uncomfortable. She could well guess why he might, given she now knew the truth.

“Just needed to grab Trixie’s book report, and then Dan’s all yours.”

“Listen, Chloe I think I owe you an apology. I-I know I deceived you. I believed it best that humans not have proof of divinity. But with everything between you and my brother…perhaps that was arrogant of me.”

He was leaning toward her, gesturing with open hands in his earnestness. Chloe refrained from rolling her eyes.

“Amenadiel, while I don’t appreciate being lied to, I can understand at least some of where you were coming from. Besides, Lucifer told me about you and my mom. Seems like I should cut you some slack,” Chloe tried to joke, “since I wouldn’t be here—”

“Lucifer told you about that?” His voice rose with his surprise.

“Yeah. We had a pretty long talk.”

Amenadiel’s smile was back. “I’m glad, Chloe! It feels good not to have these secrets anymore. And I’m so happy you’re doing okay with this. Not all humans would take it very well to learn that God made them for the Devil. You really are special, Chloe.”

A buzz seemed to start in Chloe’s ears. “I’ve-I’ve got to get to work,” Chloe said, as she pushed past him. “Uh—tell Dan Trixie needs her report.”

If he said anything in reply, Chloe didn’t hear it over the rushing in her head. Crossing the flat, dry California lawn on the straightest path to her car she nearly fell stumbling on one of the sparse clumps of grass. She stared back at it before forcing herself to move.

In her car, Chloe gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. Made for him? That’s not how Lucifer’d put it when he told her the truth. Her heart was palpitating unpleasantly, and she felt like she couldn’t expel the air in her lungs.

* * *

Lucifer arrived at the precinct much later than he’d planned. Somehow, he’d ended up fussing longer than normal over his appearance, changing his mind three times about which shirt to wear under his favorite suit. He’d been through five pocket squares before he found an acceptable one. In the end, he was quite satisfied with his choices as he reentered to precinct.

Almost as soon as Lucifer was down the stairs, Ella threw her arms around his waist in a tight hug.

“I’m so glad you’re back! With all the changes, with everything going on, I was worried we’d lose you, too.” And she squeezed tighter.

Lucifer didn’t have anything to say to that, so he patted her on the head as he sometimes did Trixie. It worked, and she let go. But then she was grabbing his arm and dragging him toward Chloe’s desk.

“Where is Chloe? She should have been in hours ago.” Ella’s speech was racing, and she was clearly still agitated, Lucifer thought, proud of himself for noticing.

Chloe’s empty desk was a puzzle. Chloe indeed should have been in hours ago. He opened his mouth to say so, but Ella was already talking again.

“She has a new case and with the new Lieutenant and everything under so much scrutiny and everything else…” She had picked up a file folder and was thrusting it into his hands.

When he didn’t take it, she said, “Lucifer, I’m serious.” She plastered it against his chest, and let go. He almost let it drop out of pure peevishness, but instead pressed a hand against it to hold it in place.

“Ms. Lopez!” he exclaimed. “You really do need to cut down on the morning caffeine.”

But she had a grip on his arm again and was pulling him, much to his bemusement, into her lab. She took the folder Lucifer was still clutching to his chest back and put it on her work table. The woman would not make up her mind!

She grabbed his hands then and pulled him to sit on one of her stools. So much touching. When they were on a level she pointed two fingers at his eyes, then at her own, and then back to his. He felt the corner of his mouth turn up on its own, and was about to make a crack when…

“Lucifer, this is serious! IAG may have cleared Chloe, but the new lieutenant isn’t her biggest fan.”

“Right then. Tell me what we need to get this new louse of a lieutenant off Chloe’s back.”

* * *

Chloe searched the precinct floor from the top of the stairs but didn’t see Lucifer. It was well after noon, and she’d…there, in the evidence lab, his lanky form perched on a stool. She rushed in.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I got hung up. I’m sorry. Have you been…alright?”

“Yes, Detective. Yes, I’ve been fine. But…how are _you_?”

He was examining her closely with concern in his eyes. How could she burden him when he was struggling so much simply to _be_. She knew he didn’t have the answers.

“Fine, fine. Things just…I’m terribly sorry, Lucifer. I promised you I’d be here, and I wasn’t.”

She feared he would press, but he shrugged. “It all turned out.” He gestured toward his face and gave her a smile as if the say _see_. “And Ms. Lopez has brought me up to speed on our maritime murder.”

She schooled the relief from her features. The case. That’s what she needed to focus on. “Right. Well, one of the officers made the notifications to Wiśniewski’s girlfriend this morning. She’s home and waiting for us to come by.”

“After you, Detective.” He gestured for her to precede him.

* * *

Chloe knocked on the apartment door again. Unlike yesterday, she heard movement behind it and then a deadbolt sliding back. A woman with red-rimmed eyes opened the door. She looked Chloe over, and then Lucifer, more slowly.

“Margret White?”

“You must be the detectives. Come in.” She walked inside leaving Chloe and Lucifer to follow.

Chloe sat opposite her at the kitchen table while Lucifer lounged against the wall behind her. She’d gotten used to having him at her back—literally and figuratively—and she’d noticed that this positioning was just askew enough that it often made the person they were interviewing uncomfortable. This was true of Ms. White.

“When was the last time you saw Aaron?”

“Monday morning before work?”

“So three days ago? Is that unusual?”

Ms. White looked down at the laminate table top, posture radiating agitation. Guilt, unless Chloe missed her guess. “I was down visiting my sister in San Diego. Spent Monday night with her. I-I was surprised when Aaron wasn’t here when I got home yesterday. But he’s an adult, and, uh. But, well, I was getting worried this morning, and then the officer knocked.” Her voice hitched on the last.

There was a lie there, Chloe suspected, but she couldn’t put her finger quite on where.

“What time did you get home yesterday?”

“Oh, I’m not sure. Around five?”

Chloe frowned. She’d swung by closer to six, and the place had been dark.

“Do you know anyone who bore any grudges or had any problems with Aaron?”

“No, he was a pretty easy guy. I can’t imagine anyone hurting him.”

Lucifer had gradually made his way to the table and now was leaning against it with his hip.

“Listen, Margret.” He bent toward her.

“Maggie. I go by Maggie.”

Lucifer wrinkled his nose. “Okay, ‘Maggie.’ Why don’t we cut to the chase?” He inched closer. “What is it that you desire?”

This was the first time she’d seen him do his _thing_ since she’d come to believe him. She found herself studying it more carefully. The way Ms. White’s eyes unfocused. The way her lips parted and her breath caught. How she was drawn forward, rapt. Chloe shivered.

How had she written this off as a trick for so long?

“I-I—” Maggie shook her head slightly, trying to resist the compulsion.

Lucifer pressed closer until they were mere inches apart. “Oh, come now, Maggie, you can tell me.” His voice was almost a purr, a caressing murmur pitched to slide into Maggie’s ears. Chloe was entranced, as well. She felt her pulse racing, and her gaze flickered back and forth between his lips and Maggie’s.

“I—” And then the dam broke. “I wanted to keep Aaron and have Ethan, too. I loved them both. I wanted them both.”

Lucifer leaned back. “Tale as old as time. Oh, Maggie. So was Aaron upsetting the applecart? Is that why you and your beau killed your boyfriend? Or did you have him killed, hmmm?”

Maggie wore the look of shock Chloe had seen on countless suspects’ faces.

“No. No! Ethan and I were together. We—I told Aaron I was visiting my sister in San Diego. She c-covers for us. Ethan and I did drive down to San Diego after work Monday. We were out all night. I’ll give you the places. I’m sure somebody will remember us! And my sister. I had lunch with her before we drove back up here last night.”

Chloe was inclined to believe her. Not just because she was now, more than ever, certain Lucifer drew out true desires from those under his thrall and that he had elicited the truth about her wanting Aaron, but also because the crime had been an execution, not one of passion. That didn’t mean, however, that Ethan hadn’t arranged something. Lucifer apparently had the same thought.

“An out-of-town getaway is a very convenient alibi if something was _planned_ for your boyfriend. Did your little lovebird Ethan fancy having you to himself?“

Maggie shook her head hard. “No,” she whispered. “Ethan wouldn’t leave his wife. Not even if I would’ve left Aaron. We talked about it. More than once.”

Chloe drew out her notepad and handed it to Maggie. “I’m going to need Ethan’s full name and address,” Chloe said. “Your employer. His employer. And your itinerary in San Diego. Times as close as you can remember.

Chloe’s mind was whirring. Was what Lucifer did ethical? It was one thing to think he was very good at getting people to talk, and another entirely to think it was some kind of compulsion. And she was, all at once, uncomfortable about her own reaction to watching him work. She brushed aside all thoughts about what she might have been feeling when Maggie handed back her notepad.

“Are you willing to turn your phone over for a forensic inspection? It could help verify your alibi.”

Maggie turned bright red. “There’re…pictures.”

“Nothing we haven’t seen before, I assure you,” Lucifer interjected. “Or at least nothing I haven’t.” Chloe was pretty sure he winked.

“It won’t take long. I’ll ask for a rush,” Chloe said.

In the end, Maggie consented, and, phone sealed in evidence bag, Chloe concluded the interview and left her her business card.

* * *

Lucifer took the lead down the stairs.

“Well that was a bust. Our amorous Maggie is more interest in having her cake and getting eaten out, too. She’s no killer.”

He glanced at Chloe, and she was looking at him with pursed lips and a half smile. He knew the look. The one she got when she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or scold him. He stopped on the landing.

“What?”

“‘More interest in having her cake and getting eaten out, too’?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You disagree?”

“It’s more a question of wording.”

But she was still smiling, and he knew she wasn’t truly upset. He stepped toward her, putting his hand on the railing at her side.

“Oh, darling,” he teased, getting in her space. “Who would I be if not the Devil you know…and, well, _know.”_ He grinned, anticipating her eye roll.

But she didn’t brush him off, and it struck him he didn’t have to stop at teasing. He slid closer until they were almost touching, both hands on the railing at her sides.

She tilted her head up. “Be glad your charming outweighs your annoying.”

He was pressed against her, mouth inches from hers, when he grinned. “You said you think I’m charming.”

She opened her mouth, undoubtedly to protest.

“Uh, uh, uh. No backsies.” He waggled his finger at her.

And there was that fond, exasperated look he secretly loved prizing out to her. He moved to close the space between them again. The sound of a shoe scuffing the linoleum echoed in the stairwell. Lucifer turned to glare at the human who interrupted their moment.

A gray-haired man wearing ill-tailored dung-colored suit gave them a disgusted look. “Bad enough we all have to use the stairs in this shithole without having to watch two grown-ass adults make out,” he muttered. “Get a room.”

Lucifer fixed him with an imperious eye. “Oh, I plan to. Any other suggestions on where I should kiss my girlfriend?”

Lucifer felt Chloe stiffen at his side, the fingers that had been brushing his pulling away.

No longer playing angry, Lucifer put a bit of heat into his glare and the man scurried off.

He turned back to Chloe, unsure. “Was girlfriend…wrong?”

Her eyes were stormy. He had even less an idea than usual what she was thinking. His heart was starting to beat faster and…was he holding his breath? But she shook her head.

“No. No, not wrong.” She blew out a breath. “It’s just…after everything…it sounds kind of, I don’t know, pedestrian?” She ducked her head, chuffing out a short laugh. “That’s probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever said.”

“Hardly, darling. Remember the time you—”

She stopped his words with her fingers. “Don’t ruin it, idiot. Come on. We need to get back the precinct.”

“Whatever my girlfriend desires,” he chirped, following after her.

* * *

Back at the precinct, Chloe gave Maggie White’s phone to Ella. She felt her own phone buzz and glanced down at it. It wasn’t a number she recognized.

“Detective Decker.”

“Uh, yeah, this is Maggie White. You said I should call if I thought of anything else.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Chloe said as she made her way to her desk and grabbed a pen. Lucifer followed her, so she put the call on speaker.

Someone was yelling in the background of the call. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll just be a minute,” Maggie said to whoever it was. “Sorry. I’m calling from my neighbors landline. But, well, I was thinking you should talk to Aaron’s cousin, Peter.”

“Same last name?”

“Yeah. He was released from prison a few months ago. Aaron’s tried to help him out, get him on his feet. But once a bad apple, well, you know.”

“Indeed,” Lucifer agreed.

Chloe frowned. “Anything specific that has you concerned?”

“No, no. It’s just you said if I thought of anything…”

Chloe thanked her and ended the call.

“Now _that_ sounds like a promising lead.” He gestured at her computer. “Why don’t you do one of your search thingies so we can learn the details of our offender’s dark deeds.” He pulled his chair up next to hers, unmindful of the scraping sound that caused several colleagues to throw looks in their direction.

He pressed his leg against the length of hers as she tapped her credentials in for the database. It was…nice. And she lost her place in her password and had to start over. She turned to look at him while she waited for the database to load. He seemed calm enough, but there was an agitation she sensed just below the surface. She reached down below the desk and rested her hand just above his knee.

“Hey, how are you doing? Today’s been going well, hasn’t it?”

His hand found hers, taking hold of it.

“It’s…it has.” His hand tightened around hers, and he fixed her with a serious gaze. “Thank you. For convincing me to come in. It’s…better.”

It would be a bad idea to kiss him in the middle of precinct where anyone could see. But as close as they were and the way he was looking at her…

The computer dinged, startling them both.

“Right,” she laughed. She entered the search and watched the results scroll up.

“Hello.” Lucifer leaned forward. “Murder, is it? Well, well, well.”

Chloe took in the information. “Paroled after serving eighteen years of a twenty-five-year sentence. Looks like he killed a bystander during a robbery when he was sixteen. Tried as an adult. Hang on.”

She reached for the evidence box at the corner of her desk and sifted through it until she found the evidence bag that contained the tattered photo she’d pulled from Aaron’s wallet. She held it up to the oldest mugshot in the file. The teenager in the photo was definitely Peter Wiśniewski.

“I know with whom I’d like to have a chat.” Lucifer’s smile was downright predatory.

He’d always taken a certain glee in doling out punishment, but now she knew where the impulse came from. She shivered. Of course, Lucifer noticed, going rigid next to her. _Damn it_. She gave his hand a quick squeeze to let him know she was okay.

“I’ll have a uni contact his parole officer and have Peter brought in for an interview. Now, do you want to help me check on Maggie’s alibi? We’ve got a list of places to call.”

* * *

Lucifer was pleased with how the day had gone as Chloe walked him to the parking garage. She’d been right. Getting back to normal was good. And if this, between them, was normal now? Well, that was better than good. He couldn’t help but smile as he let his hand brush against hers as they walked. 

She seemed lost in thought though, almost startled when they reached his corvette, parked two spots from her own Charger.

“Are you heading back to Lux?”

Lucifer shook his head. “Daniel has finally deigned to agree to see me.” He offered her a half smirk and waited for her reaction.

“Oh, that’s good.”

He tilted his head at her. “Is that all?”

“Sorry, no, that’s great. Let me know how it goes, yeah?”

Something was bothering her, though, he could tell. He wanted to be there for her the way she had been for him. So he took a page from her book and said: “I’m here for you, Chloe.”

That got her attention, and her eyes snapped up to his. He could see the tumult there. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. I was just thinking about something…not important.”

He opened his mouth to object. If she was worried about it, it was important. But she surprised him by grabbing the lapels of his jacket and pulling him down for a kiss. That, he was more than willing to oblige. And certainly if it’s what made her happy.

They broke apart, both breathless. He was used to leaving other people that way, but her effect on him, well, that _was_ a new experience. One he was surprised to find he quite enjoyed.

He chuckled. “Much as I’d like to continue this, I do believe I have a date with Daniel I’d best keep.”

She gave him a mock pout which was both ludicrous and adorable—Chloe really was terrible at flirting and he loved her for it—before saying, “Fine. Raincheck.” He was enjoying her playfulness and so decided he must have imagined her troubled look as she turned and headed to her own car.

* * *

“Come in,” Dan said, having to clear his throat when his voice came out too squeaky.

He turned his back on Lucifer with a conscious effort and led the way to his living area. His apartment was small, so it was only a few steps. Still, Dan was relieved to turn back toward Lucifer.

“Have a seat,” he said gesturing toward the couch and chair. “Can I get you a beer or, well, a beer?” That’s right, he’d drunk through the bourbon again.

Lucifer started to shake his head, but said instead: “Thank you, Daniel. I appreciate your hospitality.”

Dan grabbed the beers from the refrigerator, watching from the kitchen area as Lucifer found a seat on his couch and adjusted the lines of his suit. He _looked_ like he always had.

Dan handed him one of the bottles and plopped onto the chair across the narrow coffee table.

Lucifer settled back, crossing one leg over the other and letting his arms rest over his knees. He managed to look graceful even sinking into Dan’s low, worn couch. Comfortable even when Dan could tell he wasn’t.

Dan took a swig from his bottle when neither of them spoke.

“So—”

“Chloe—”

Lucifer gestured for Dan to go ahead.

“I—I want to know why you are here, living this life.”

Lucifer nodded. “There’s no big answer to that one. I realized something not so long ago when visiting this lovely city: I’d spent eons in Hell and I was still trying to please my Father. Why? So I decided I was done. Done with his Plan. Done playing my part for him.” Lucifer spread his hands wide. “So I stayed here.”

“That’s all?”

Lucifer chuffed out a laugh at his understatement. “Certainly it hasn’t been without its complications. Some of my siblings have made nosey annoyance of themselves. And, well, I rather expected He’d strike me down any day for the first few years. Yet, here I am, and, as it turns out, relatively unmolested by Him. So far, anyway.” He frowned, lost in his thoughts. “But this is my home. I am not going back to Hell.”

Amenadiel had talked to him quite a bit about Charlotte and Lucifer. But not about Hell. The topic that kept occupying Dan’s mind whenever he wasn’t thinking about Charlotte.

“So, how’s Hell work?”

Lucifer gave him a surprised look.

“Charlotte…” he lied.

“She’s not there, Daniel.”

“I know, but I want to understand. She talked about it a little…”

Lucifer shrugged, as if indifferent, but Dan recognize it as an act. He knew the Devil that well.

“Well, each cell is different and most create a…false reality. The punishment for most souls is based on the person’s own guilt. Some know they’re in Hell, but most do not. They punish themselves by living out their worst guilt or suffering in ways they feel they deserve.” Lucifer looked distant as he spoke. “Usually, it ends up looping and repeating with little variations. Other times, it works differently. But unless you have a sociopath or the like, the constant is the soul creates its own punishment. Demons may tweak it, though,” he ended thoughtfully.

Dan stared at him. That he could talk about Hell so casually. But of course he could.

“Did you…make it like that?” He knew Lucifer valued punishment, but Hell sounded a little…elaborate…for him.

Lucifer snorted. “No, Hell existed before I arrived, and it’s grown on its own since. But you don’t need to know about that. It won’t do you any good, believe me.” Lucifer leaned across the table and clapped Dan’s arm in way that was probably meant to be reassuring but had the feel of someone trying on a human gesture instead.

When Dan flinched a bit, Lucifer frowned.

“Look, Daniel, I know this isn’t easy. But I would like it if we could continue to…work together.”

The Devil was insecure. This was something Dan already knew. He almost snickered at the absurdity.

“I mean, you’re not the Detective, but you’re not as intolerably bad as I thought at first, so I’d like to…” He made a rolling gesture with his hands that Dan took to mean move on. “I’ve been telling you from the beginning. It’s not my fault you preferred to believe I was mentally ill.”

“Weirdo,” Dan corrected. “I thought you were a weirdo, not mentally ill.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Oh,” Lucifer sounded hurt, but he recovered quickly. “Regardless, now you know. So, chop chop, let’s get on with things. Surely you have questions about Hitler or your third-grade teacher?”

“Um.” Dan did have some more question, but he didn’t want to offend Lucifer. The Devil also had sensitive feelings. “Your brother cleared up a lot for me. And I’m not sure I really want to hear about Hitler…or Mrs. Franklin, just now. Maybe…can I just hear it from you…that you don’t have any…bad…intentions toward any of us?”

Lucifer sighed and looked at his hands, but, when he looked up, he met Dan’s eyes, leaned in, and annunciated clearly: “I don’t have any bad intentions toward any of you.” He relaxed back. “I came here because I wanted to live my own life. I’m not saying I haven’t screwed anything up, but, well.” He seemed lost in his own thoughts again.

Dan chuffed out a bitter laugh. “Haven’t we all,” he muttered.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. No. Do you?”

“Not really, no.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunday update! Enjoy!
> 
> Content warning: The end of this chapter includes a conversation and a dream sequence that are a touch more explicit than what's been included in this work so far. If that's not your cup of tea, please just skip to the last three paragraphs.

Lucifer was slower than usual getting ready Thursday morning. He’d told Chloe he would meet her at the precinct again today, but he found himself reluctant. He poured a glass of scotch and wandered to the couch instead of riding the elevator down and into the day. His tilted his head back as he sought to order his unruly thoughts.

Yesterday had gone remarkably…fine. So had his meeting with Dan, all things considered. So why had he come home feeling so troubled? His sleep had been chased by dreams of the loft. Feelings of fear and despair and incandescent rage flowing from dream into waking world again and again until he’d gotten up and tried to read until dawn.

Perhaps it was that he had been able to taste the slight tang of Dan’s fear despite the man’s amazing effort to move forward. He no doubt had his brother to thank for that much. He wondered what Dan would say if he told him about the satisfaction he’d felt as he drove the blade into Cain’s chest. Would he still be willing to try to _accept_ Lucifer?

Lucifer set down his untouched scotch and closed his tired eyes, trying to banish the memory of the tremor in Dan’s hands.

And now he was supposed to go back to work catching murderers…other murderers. His mind seemed to be stuck worrying at whether it was fair, whether it was right, for him to slide back into his life. Was it what he _deserved_?

It all was so much clearer when he was with Chloe. She was so sure of him. So much certainty…faith, even. But should she be so confident? How well did she know him, really? All of him, not just what he wanted her to see.

He was no fool. He knew the difference between what she wouldn’t approve of and what she wouldn’t tolerate, and he’d always kept the latter out of her sight. Most of the time.

He wanted to be worthy of her. He did. He’d tried. If his brother was right, and Lucifer saw no reason to doubt, he’d even believed it possible himself. Before everything went to, well, hell. The truth was clearer than ever to him. He was what he was.

The Detective could never understand But how could he explain how he felt when he killed Cain? How he’d crowed with delight. Taunted him. Bragged about being a Devil of his word. What would she think of him then?

She might say it was a justifiable homicide. But _he_ knew he had chosen to go back. _He_ knew he wanted to kill Cain. _He_ knew he could probably have won the fight without killing Cain—demon blade or no—if he’d tried a little harder.

His phone vibrated. It was a text from the Detective checking on him.

 _On my way_ , he sent back.

* * *

Lucifer took a nip from his flask before dumping the rest in his coffee. His fingers fluttered to his cufflinks, touched the top button of his shirt, and adjusted his ring. Satisfied everything was in place, he gathered up the two paper cups. Elbowing open the door to the precinct, he felt lighter, almost buoyant, troublesome thoughts put away. He was happy to slip into handsome-Devil-cop any day. 

Lucifer presented Chloe her coffee with a flourish, ignoring entirely that it was half past eleven. He perched on her desk and peaked around to look at her monitor.

“What are we looking at today?”

“Lucifer, it’s nearly noon.”

That she seemed more worried than her usual exasperated threatened to break through his determination to fall into their usual rhythm of banter.

“Is it? The day is early then.”

She shook her head. “Fine. I’m looking at Aaron’s credit records and social media.”

“Boring,” he pronounced. He settled in his chair and pulled out his phone.

“You aren’t even going to pretend to help?”

“Until you have something suitable to my skill set, no, I think I’ll wait.”

She blew a wayward piece of hair out of her face. “Are you _trying_ to annoy me?”

“Detective, would I do that?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Why don’t you go bother… _talk_ to Ella. See if she’s found anything else from the crime scene.”

An apology—a foreign thing—fluttered at the tip of his tongue, but her eyes were already back on her computer screen. It wasn’t that he wanted to make her unhappy. He just couldn’t seem to help himself. He huffed in frustration and said, “fine,” before stalking to the evidence lab.

He paused before entering to adjust the line of his suit and felt easier. Catching his reflection in the glass of the door, he smoothed his expression, as well.

“Lucifer! It’s good to see you around again today, man,” Ella enthused as soon as he closed the door.

He did his best to keep the table between them. “Yes, Ms. Lopez, I am still consulting for now, so it shouldn’t be surprising to see me ‘around’.”

She frowned at him before grinning. “Don’t be giving me any of this ‘for now’ business. I saw you and Chloe in the garage last night. I can’t _believe_ you two are keeping this a secret. How long? I mean, I always knew you guys had something special. But I wasn’t sure if it was something _special_ special, ya know. ‘Cause you two, you are com-pli-ca-ted. But I’m right, right?”

Lucifer opened his mouth with an easy reply on his tongue, but he stopped. He’d never been shy about his exploits before. But Chloe…Chloe was different. And he knew Chloe could be perturbingly conventional about matters sexual. It was why getting under her skin was so much fun. But would she be hurt if he confirmed…?

Ella laughed. “I see, I see. Don’t sweat it.” She gave him exaggerated wink. “I didn’t see _anything_ in the precinct parking garage against a ’62 Corvette last night.”

“I appreciate your…discretion, Ms. Lopez.”

Her eyes went wide at his sarcasm, and her mouth snapped shut. Lucifer tugged his cuff, uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat and moved on: “The Detective asked me to see if you’d found anything related to our crime scene.”

“Ah, well _that’s_ interesting, you see. The crime scene was amazingly clean. I’d say we are looking at real professionals here."

Chloe ducked her head into the evidence lab. “Lucifer, want to take a trip to talk to Maggie’s Ethan? He’s declined to come in for an interview, so I’m thinking we should pay his office a visit.”

Lucifer was on his feet before she’d finished. “Finally we’re getting somewhere.”

“Oh, right,” Ella said. “I got the preliminary in on Maggie’s phone. At least, location data and photo EXIF data seems to back up her story. I’ve got a team checking to make sure none of it was tampered with but looks like she and Ethan were enjoying their escapade in beautiful San Diego just like she said. Have I ever told you about the first time I drove down? It was last March and you would not believe—”

“Hey, you can tell me at the next Tribe night…and thanks, Ella.”

* * *

She drove while Lucifer speculated about Ethan hiring someone to off Aaron while he established an alibi out of town. It was certainly possible, but she was concerned about Lucifer’s certainty about the man’s guilt. Lucifer was not at his best when he had an axe to grind. She wasn’t sure why he was so focused on Ethan. Yesterday, he was sure it was the cousin. _Everyone_ seemed guilty to Lucifer lately, which was unhelpful.

Ethan Escher worked as an accountant in the Valley. When they reached the third-floor office space, Chloe refrained from flashing her badge, instead asking the receptionist for Ethan. Asked what it was concerning, she simply said Maggie White. A few minutes later, she and Lucifer were led to a small office with no windows. The walls were decorated with framed photos tropical vacation locales, the only color in the space.

“Please come in,” Ethan said.

He was a tall, ever-so-slightly-portly man of approximately Maggie and Aaron’s age. He closed the door after Chloe and Lucifer even though there was barely room for three people in the office.

Chloe took the only chair opposite the desk. Lucifer lounged against a beige, metal filing cabinet.

“I’m sorry. What does this pertain to?”

“I’m Detective Chloe Decker. And this is my partner Lucifer Morningstar. We’re here to speak to you about Aaron Wiśniewski murder.”

“Maggie told me.”

“And you declined to come speak with us,” Lucifer noted. “Not precisely selling your innocence, my cretinous bean counter.”

Ethan bristled. “I don’t have to speak with you now, either.”

Lucifer took a step forward, radiating menace that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “I really wouldn’t be so confident about that, Ethee.”

Chloe caught his arm with a restraining hand. She leaned forward, catching Ethan’s attention.

“Mr. Escher, we’ve been discreet in coming here, but if you don’t want to cooperate, we’re going to have to start by talking to your coworkers, your neighbors, your friends…your wife. That won’t be discreet. If you help us, maybe we can rule you out as a suspect without needing to do all of that.”

Ethan had paled while Chloe was speaking.

“Come now, Detective, this pillock isn’t interested in your forbearance.”

“No, no! I am! What do you want me to tell you? You already know I was sleeping with his girlfriend. I didn’t kill him.”

“I’m shocked to hear you say that,” Lucifer mocked. “Simply shocked.”

Not even Chloe had noticed him moving, but he was very much in Ethan’s personal space now. For his part, Ethan’s eyes were darting between Lucifer, Chloe, and the door, and he was twitching just a bit as he unconsciously backed away from Lucifer. Chloe had seen this cornered-animal look on people Lucifer had fixed with this kind of attention before—unease edging on panic and a confusion as to why the world suddenly felt less safe—she’d just never dwelt on it. Something she was questioning a great deal right now.

Chloe decided it would be best to redirect the conversation to herself. She tapped the desk with a stapler loudly enough to catch both men’s attention.

“How long have you been seeing Maggie White?”

Ethan struggled to focus on her, as if afraid of what Lucifer might do if he wasn’t watching. “A-A-About six years.”

“Did Aaron know?”

“I-I don’t think so. Maggie was pretty careful.”

“That’s a long time.”

“It was…comfortable. I-I love my wife, but we aren’t exactly sexually compatible, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” Lucifer broke in.

Ethan eyed him. “We, uh, we…”

“How well did you know Aaron?” Chloe asked.

“Uh, we met at the occasional party over the years, but I didn’t, not really.”

“What about your wife, did she know about Maggie?”

“What’s that have to do with anything? Maggie and me, we weren’t hurting anyone, and we certainly didn’t kill Aaron. We were in San Diego. I swear!” Ethan’s voice rose to a whine by the end.

With a sound very close to a growl, Lucifer pounced. He had both hands on the arms of Ethan’s chair, leaning over the cowering Ethan, practically pinning him with his gaze.

“Stop wasting our time with these excuses. I’ve heard them all.”

The aura of menace increased so even Chloe could feel it. She shivered. Had he been containing that all this time? Ethan was terrified.

“So tell me, you twat, did you desire to have Maggie to yourself? Did you arrange to have poor cuckolded Aaron killed? Tell me, what was it you desired?”

And there it was. That moment Aaron fell under his spell. The slight glaze to his eyes, the slight lean in. His trembling stopped, too.

“I wanted things to stay the way they were. I-I had a good thing going. My wife makes good money and takes care of the house, and she loves me.”

“And Maggie?” Lucifer purred.

“And Maggie—Maggie makes me happy when we’re together. She’s wild and fun and crazy. The sex is fantastic. But at the end of the day I didn’t owe her anything. I’d never want to _be with her_ , be with her. She was just…she was just…convenient.”

Lucifer made a disgusted noise and pulled away. “Charming.”

Chloe thought she saw an echo of flame in his eyes.

Ethan stared, mortified and terrified.

Standing, Chloe tried to salvage the situation. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Escher. If you can think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Aaron, please give me a call.” She put her card on his desk since he was too frozen to take it.

Lucifer gave him one last predatory grin before following Chloe out of the office.

Once they were alone in the hallway, she rounded on him. “Lucifer, that was…that was too much.”

“We found out what we needed to know, Detective. People don’t lie to me about their desires. Unless Ethan here had a different reason to kill Aaron, he’s not the guilty party. The murderer who needs to be punished is still out there.”

“You terrified him. He might be a cheating dirtbag, but he didn’t deserve—”

“Oh, you’re the expert on that now, are you? And here I thought that was my job.” He turned and brushed past her on his way to the exit.

She stared after him, open-mouthed.

* * *

Lucifer was quiet for half the ride back but then picked up his usual level of chatter. He was apparently choosing to act like nothing unusual had happened at Ethan’s office.

Back at the precinct, Ella took Chloe and Lucifer through the parts of the Port security videos that had been flagged by an evidence tech. They watched Aaron Wiśniewski arrive and clock in. He worked unloading a container ship for most of his shift. But there was no video of him leaving the Port at all.

“Video coverage at the Port is pretty intense, guys. Homeland Security and all,” Ella noted. “So if Aaron either snuck off the Port or was taken off the Port, it was by someone who knew what they were doing.”

“Where was he last seen?” Chloe asked.

Ella cued up the video. It showed Aaron entering a warehouse.

“This warehouse is leased by the company that owned a cargo he helped unload the day before he died. Called Losopa Trading Corp. Don’t know why he was going back there, but we never see him leave. More interesting, the Port Police officer who brought the video over reported that the camera that should’ve been covering the back of the warehouse wasn’t functioning.”

“That’s quite a coincidence,” Lucifer commented, leaning it to take a closer look at the freeze-frame of Aaron disappearing into the warehouse.

“Mmmhmm,” Ella agreed. “Worse, it covered a parking lot and part of the main service drive. I have a tech assembling a list of vehicles and plates that entered or left the area between when Aaron disappears here and about 30 min before our earliest possible TOD. He was definitely killed where we found him, and that’s at least a half hour away from the Port. It’s about a four hour window, so it’s not going to be a short list.”

“Sounds good. In the meantime, I’ll reach out to this Losopa Trading Corp. See if they’ll give us permission to search the warehouse or talk to us. In the meantime, I think we should make another visit to the Port tomorrow.”

* * *

Chloe parted ways with Lucifer for the day soon after. It was awkward. She could tell he wanted to make sure they were alright but either didn’t want to admit or didn’t agree he’d done anything wrong. Yet she knew him and worried he would take her disagreement as rejection. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

“Look, I’ve got to pick up Trixie. Without Maze and Mrs. Baczynski, I’ve got a lot less flexibility. But give me a call if you like?” She gave him a kiss on the cheek.

And there was that surprised-pleased smile she loved so much and saw only infrequently. On the one hand, it hurt that he could be so affected by simple gestures, but on the other hand it warmed a part of her and made her feel special.

But then he frowned. “Maze. Have you seen her?”

She shook her head. She hadn’t sought her out, either.

“Me either. We’ve plenty to discuss, my deceptive little demon and I.”

And just like that it hit her all over again that he was speaking one-hundred percent literally. He was still far away when she bid him goodbye.

* * *

Chloe thought Lucifer wasn’t going to call after all. Trixie was asleep and she was nearly ready for bed herself. But the phone lit up with his number just as she was plugging it into the charger on her nightstand, startling her.

“Hey,” she answered.

“Too late?”

“Of course not. I was just getting into bed.”

“Ooooh. Perfect then.”

“I’m too old for phone sex, Lucifer.”

“If you say so.” His chuckle came over the line sending a tingle of warmth through her. “It’s strange, this whole dating thing. I’m not used to all this…delayed gratification.”

That, she suspected, was an understatement.

“I spoke to Dan. I think he’s going to take Trixie Saturday overnight into Sunday, if he’s feeling up to it. I’ll check in with him tomorrow. If he does, well, do you…?”

“Why Chloe, are you asking me out?”

She huffed out a laugh. Here they were, the Devil and the human God may or may not have made for him. And they were talking about dating like teenagers. Which, she supposed, was probably about his level of experience with relationships.

“I am,” she said.

“Until then…please tell me you aren’t wearing sweats to bed.”

“Well, I could tell you I’m wearing a barely-there silky black negligee…but I know how much you hate liars.”

“Tease. Tell me about your sweats then.”

She glanced under the sheets. “They’re pink. With swirls and little hearts.”

“Mmmmm, lovely. Elastic or drawstring?”

“Oh, come on, Lucifer.”

“Try to get in the spirit of things, at least. What do you have on top?”

“Just a tank.”

“Darling, you can do better than that. Is it lacy? No, I think not. Hmmmm. Are the straps narrow? Does one want to fall off your shoulder? Is the fabric thin, does it stretch? Does it pull taut across your breasts?” His voice had dropped a pitch and she could feel herself reacting to his words in spite of herself. “Is it just a little bit sheer? Could I see the tawny blush of your nipples as they tighten to peaks in anticipation? Do you feel the fabric pulling at those hard little nubs? And does it make you ache for my touch?”

Chloe’s breath was a little short and she found her body responding just how he said, as if on command, her mind imagining his hand cupping her breast, his thumb stroking a nipple through her tank. She arched into the ghost touch. It was uncomfortably intense, how he got under her skin, so she focused instead on the rustling she could hear over the line and the sound of the phone getting farther from and then closer to his mouth. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I can’t exactly describe what I’m wearing when you’ve seen me wearing it all day.”

She bit her cheek to stop from laughing. When the rustling came to an end, she said: “Fine, fine. What are you wearing?”

“Nothing but a smile, of course.”

“Goof.”

He harrumphed. “I don’t think you’re getting how this phone sex thing works.”

“Sorry.”

“Right, well.” His tone dipped back down to sultry-should’ve-been-cheesy-but-definitely-definitely-wasn’t: “I push your tank top up just a little so I can lay my hand on your stomach, splaying my fingers, while I savor the feel of your skin.”

Chloe let her hand do as he described.

“And I lean over you, let my lips rest near your ear so you can feel them brushing you as I whisper into it.”

A little whine left Chloe’s throat unbidden. She might’ve been embarrassed except she heard his breath hitch and she knew he was affected, too.

“I slide my hand up under your darling little tank to tease your breast and my other hand rests lower, my fingers dipping under the waist of your pink sweetheart sweats.”

Chloe’s hands followed his lead, and she’d never felt quite like this. Like her own touch was doubling with another.

“Are you with me, Chloe? Are you…touching yourself?” He sounded breathless. She turned her head so the phone was pinned beneath her ear. It would probably be easier to put it on speaker, but she preferred it as if he was whispering to her, just as he’d said.

“Y-Yes.” The word was almost lost on an indrawn breath as she felt her cool fingertips touching just above her mound.

“Ah, you are sweet, my love.” He gasped partway through the words, and she suspected he was touching himself now. “Tell me, what am I going to do next?”

Somehow, it was those words that seemed to light every nerve in Chloe’s body. “You—You are going to kiss me first.”

“Yes, I am going to savor your lips, run my tongue against the back of your teeth before tangling it with your own.”

“Then, then you are going to move your mouth to my breast.”

“Yes, I am going to take your nipple in my mouth. Moisten the fabric of your tank until I am sucking you through it. The wet fabric a delightful contrast on my tongue and on your sensitive flesh…”

She moaned as she teased her nipple, imagination filling in the sensations his words created. His little choked sound hit her lower in a gush of wet warmth. Another mewing whimper escaped her unbidden.

“And where, darling, is my mouth going next?”

“My stomach, just where your fingers were. You kiss me with open-mouthed kisses and then just when I can’t bear it, you hook your hands in the waistband of my sweats and my underpants both and yank them down to my knees.”

“Chloe…” he whined.

“Y-your hand comes under my knee, lifting it up, opening me to you.” Her knee lifted almost of its own accord.

She was hot with anticipation, thinking back to how his mouth felt on her their first night together. Her fingers dipped lower, ahead of any words, unable to hold back, teasing out her own slickness. A long, whining moan left her lips. She wanted to continue but words were escaping her.

She heard him grunt, but he apparently brought himself under control because he continued for her.

“I drop my head to taste you. First your bud. I swirl my tongue around it.” Chloe’s fingers followed his words. “Then I slide lower, teasing in and out. Finally, I let my fingers join, slipping one and then two inside you. Do you feel them, love?”

She did, oh she did, but she couldn’t say so, only pant and gasp, as her fingers slipped through her own juices. And it was suddenly too much and she was falling over the edge, heedless, feeling his touch all over her body and in it at once, and she was keening her pleasure over the open phone line. As she came back to herself, she became aware of the sounds he was making and realized he had brought himself along to join her in climax.

It took a moment for their breathing to slow back down to something resembling normal.

“Too old for phone sex, darling? There’s no such thing.”

“Lucifer,” she admonished.

“Sleep well, my dear Detective,” he said before ending the call.

And she found that she was sliding off into sleep with the languor of her orgasm still hanging on her limbs.

She dreamed of him between her legs just as before. Only, when she looked down, he raised his head and he was wearing his devil face. Her breath caught before coming in gasps. But the dream-ache between her legs only increased. Glowing eyes searched hers before burnt red lips dropped down to taste her once more.

Her dream-self was torn between a deep disquiet and a rising pleasure. Things jumped in the way dreams do and she was riding him, her imagination filling in the gaps from what she’d seen, painting his arms and torso red. Her mind went to the cock that was inside her, stretching her, even as she continued to move above him. Was it ridged and textured like his face? She was desperate to know the answer to the question, even as she rode it…and then the dream shifted again. Now, she was pinned under him, but he moved slowly over and inside her with an aching tenderness. She felt suspended on a knife’s edge. Like if she fell over it, she would fly to pieces and only be put back together by the grace of his touch. His eyes burned into her and she felt like every secret thought she’d ever had was opening up to him.

She awoke with a gasp and knew she’d come again. What the _literal_ Hell was that?

She’d seen a lot— _a lot_ —of that face over the last few days. Maybe this was just her subconscious working out what she already knew: it was part of this man she wanted to be with.

And yet. No normal person would have a dream like that, right? No normal person who wasn’t _made_ for the purpose, anyway. She groaned, burying her face in her hands.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a Sunday update this week! Please make sure you caught that chapter before you read this one. Once again, thank you for reading and your the comments! Thanks as always to ObliObla for the wonderful beta work. Welcome back as we continue into the case...

Chloe got to work bright and early. She did her best to put thoughts of the night before out of her mind, even if the disquiet left behind by her dream did its best to follow her. She focused instead on the work ahead of her. As it often did, diving into the case before her provided an escape from the troubles of her personal life. A useful focus for her energies.

Speaking of troubles, Lucifer was late _again_ , so she texted him to meet her at the Port. He was waiting just outside the main gate, leaning against his car, when she arrived. They were met at the Port’s administrative building by Milewski and Officer James.

Milewski shook her hand. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you. My partner is joining as well today.” She gesturing toward Lucifer who was examining one of the ship-models in its glass case.

“Lucifer Morningstar,” he intoned in his sing-song way, and she just _knew_ it was to see their reactions.

Milewski’s gaze lingered on Lucifer for a few beats longer than polite before he tore it back Chloe’s way. “We’re at your disposal today. We’ll facilitate whatever you need. Get you access where you need it.”

Chloe gave her thanks although she’d much prefer not having them looking over her shoulder. “We’re not sure Mr. Wiśniewski left the Port of his own accord Monday. We want to go over his activities leading up to his disappearance.”

“You really thinking he might’ve been killed here?” James interrupted.

Chloe didn’t mind working with a fellow officer but didn’t want to say as much in front of Milewski.

“We’re working through it. If you take us through his last shift, that would be great.”

“Right, we sent the basics over to your precinct. Aaron came on shift around 6 a.m. He was unloading cargo from the _Golden Confidence_ all day. At some point, he left the ship and visited a warehouse on Terminal Island. Not sure why. Warehouse is owned by Losopa Trading Corp. He’d loaded cargo from that warehouse Sunday. Onto the _Nordic Cascade_ , I believe.”

“Ah.” Lucifer raised a hand. “Are you sure that wasn’t the _Golden Cascade_? Because I’ve some experience—”

Chloe shot him a look and his mouth snapped shut, but there was a gleam in his eye.

“No, no,” Milewski continued. “It’s the _Golden Confidence_ and the _Nordic Cascade_. They both call here regularly.”

“Right.” She eyed Lucifer again. “So Aaron Wiśniewski was working the _Golden Confidence_ …”

“As we sent over, he didn’t clock out Monday. No one noticed. I talked to John Russo and he said they don’t reconcile timecards until the end of the week, and Aaron wasn’t scheduled to work on Tuesday, so.” He raised his hands in apology.

Chloe nodded. “What can you tell us about Losopa Trading?”

“Not much,” Milewski responded. “It’s leased space. They’ve held if for about a year and a half. They’re a small import/export company. L.A. based, I believe. I’ll pull you an address for their offices. Not terribly active. I can also pull their manifests, if you want.”

“That would be great. In the meantime, I want to take a look at the warehouse and the area in the blacked-out security coverage.”

* * *

Officer James drove them to the warehouse, giving Chloe time to take in the size of the cargo-side of the port.

“It’s always a pleasure to work with our LAPD brethren,” James commented. “Almost fifteen years on the job. This is a good gig, but I like to think I might’ve made detective if I’d gone the LAPD route out of the academy in ’04.”

Chloe fought her eye roll and asked instead: “So how did you end up with the Port Police?”

“Well, Port Police were hiring, and my girlfriend at the time thought it would be safer. Pay and benefits are the same as LAPD. Plus we get to spend half our time on the water.” He grinned. “Turns out it’s boring as shit most the time, though. Inspections, patrols. Patrols, inspections. But I can take you for a spin on one of the patrol boats, if you like.”

Lucifer had leaned forward from the backseat, and Chloe was dreading the comment that would likely come next. But James beat him to it.

“When did you go to the academy, Mr. Morningstar?”

Lucifer stiffened. “How _dare_ you! Do I look—?”

“Civilian consultant,” Chloe broke in. “He’s a civilian consultant.”

To Chloe’s relief, James pulled over before the conversation could continue. He parked in front of a row of small warehouse, all roughly identical, sharing party walls.

He gestured at one bearing a small sign reading _Losopa Trading Corp._ “Doesn’t look like anyone’s in.”

Indeed, a steel folding security gate was pulled across the door and there was no light coming through the vertical line of glass blocks that ran alongside the entryway. Chloe knocked anyway. There was no answer.

Lucifer joined her at the door, letting his hand hover near the lock. He raised a questioning eyebrow, but she shook her head.

“We know he came in the front but didn’t leave that way. Let’s take a look around back.”

The back of the warehouse was as uninteresting as the front. Like all its neighbors, it had a big rollup door at a height to allow a semi to back up to it and a smaller door for regular ingress and egress. Across from the loading area, there was a parking lot shared by all the warehouses. It was relatively empty. A service road ran just on the other side of the parking area. Several cars rolled by while Chloe tried knocking on the back door.

“Busy,” Lucifer commented with a nod to the road.

“Yeah, if he was taken out by force, it either wasn’t far or it was hidden in some way.” She began canvassing the immediate area. Officer James joined them.

“I’d like to get some officers out here and a forensic team. I see no way Aaron left except through those doors and out here.”

“No need. I’ll call in a couple more units,” James offered.

“I’d rather keep the investigation within the LAPD. Less hassles later.”

James, who had seemed relaxed, bristled. “We’re entirely capable of collecting evidence. If a crime was committed here, I insist.”

Chloe gave a negative shake of her head. “I appreciate your assistance, but I’m going to call in an LAPD team. Our vic was killed elsewhere. This case is LAPD, but I’m happy to keep you in the loop.”

James looked like he’d bitten something sour but didn’t argue. He was still hovering after Chloe’s placed the call.

“Detective,” Lucifer hailed her. He was looking at something on the ground in the grass near a lamppost.

Chloe was grateful for the excuse to extricate herself from James' presence.

Lucifer crouched down and used the corner of his flask to pull back the grass. A pocket knife lay on several blades of folded-over scrub. It shined and didn’t give the appearance of having been in the elements.

Lucifer cleared his throat. “Could’ve been lost in a struggle…or could’ve been dropped by a careless sod.”

Chloe nodded. “Good eye.” She dropped a spare latex glove nearby as a marker. “Anything else look disturbed.”

“Not that I’ve noticed.” He gestured to the empty asphalt around them.

It indeed looked like any empty parking lot.

James had joined them. He followed Chloe’s glance at the security camera mounted on a lamppost outside the warehouse.

“Unfortunate, that.”

“Was it tampered with?”

“We looked into it. Seems like an ordinary power fault. Happens sometimes. Lowest-bid contracts, you know? Just some bad luck on our end. Happy to pass the report on to your folks.”

* * *

Dan glanced at his partner. Mulvaney had kept up a steady patter since they’d parked across from the small taqueria where they were waiting for their perp to make an appearance. He talked about the Kings, a girlfriend whose name Dan hadn’t caught, the three kids who lived with his ex-wife, and a boat he was looking at buying. It was fine with Dan. He didn’t feel like keeping up any conversation, so he just grunted in agreement at the appropriate times. At least it was Friday.

It had been over an hour, and he was beginning to doubt their tip. He was also itching to reach for the airplane bottle of bourbon he’d stashed in his jacket pocket. Too many thoughts were starting to build up in his head.

“Espinoza. I been meaning to talk to you.”

“That right?” he asked Mulvaney.

“Yeah. I been watching you. Can’t figure you out, though. You just riding out your days until you’re eligible for a pension?”

Dan let his head loll on the headrest until he was looking at him but said nothing.

“You haven’t demanded your share but you haven’t called me out either. So…I did some asking around.”

Dan continued to watch him. Part of him curious what he would say; part of him not caring. Silence had the effect of making Mulvaney keep talking.

“I heard the most interesting thing. I’ve got a contact in the Russian mob, and he heard a rumor that you gave them the man who killed one of their fixers. Boris something, I think.”

Dan flinched.

“Now that _is_ interesting, Espinoza.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Calm down. I’m not wearing a wire. Just something interesting I heard…” He grinned. “I imagine there was a nice payout for that.”

Dan ground his teeth and kept his silence.

Mulvaney shrugged. “Course there was. I get it. You don’t trust me. But, what if I said, hypothetically, I knew a group that was working certain _opportunities_? Would that be something you’d be interested in?”

Dan knew he shouldn’t care. It would be better not to care. Except…if they were Pierce’s…Dan wanted them all to suffer. “You know a group?”

Mulvaney's lips curled up and his eyes danced. “I knew it! Just a small group of…friends…with some arrangements in place. We lost some ground and people when that bullshit ‘Sinnerman’ Pierce set up in L.A.”

The sour twist of Mulvaney’s lips at his mention of Pierce convinced Dan the man was into something else.

“But now we’re stepping back in. Boss thinks we’re in for flush times.”

“Do I know the boss?”

“Dunno.” He gave a sly smirk. “I’d vouch for you, partner. Be like the old days but much, much better.”

Just then, Dan spotted a man crossing the parking lot wearing the Vikings sweatshirt they’d been told to look for. He grabbed his phone and glanced between the man and the old mugshot on the screen.

“Come on, Mulvaney. Let’s go,” Dan said, already halfway out of the car.

After the flurry of the arrest, Mulvaney caught Dan’s arm. “Just think about.”

* * *

Chloe explained what she wanted done once the LAPD units arrived. Satisfied that they would process the scene, she joined Lucifer and Milewski. James followed her.

“I believe you said he came here from a ship?” Lucifer asked Milewski.

“Uh, yeah. The _Golden Confidence_. He wasn’t done working on the vessel, either.” Milewski shrugged as if to say _who knows_.

“I’ve already talked to the other longshoreman working her,” James added. “No one even realized he’d left.”

Chloe nodded. They could follow up on that, but Aaron had been alone in the video. “Is the ship still here?”

Milewski nodded. “Believe it will be done loading tonight. Probably sail an hour or two after midnight.”

At Chloe’s request, they traced Aaron’s route backward in Officer James’ patrol car. It was a short drive and Chloe noted nothing of particular interest along the route. She did notice her partner’s leg was bouncing with nervous energy. He’d been so well behaved today—too well behaved, really—and she suspected much of his attention was directed toward his inner turmoil.

Glancing to the front of the car to make sure they weren’t observed, she placed a hand on his knee to still him. His large hand covered hers, squeezing gently. She felt as much as saw him draw in a deep breath and breathe it out. By the time they reached the water, he seemed calmer.

Chloe climbed out of the car and craned her neck. The ship was large and presented little for close examination. She was looking up at it when Lucifer spoke, entirely too close to her ear.

“Perhaps it would be valuable to speak with these erstwhile _seamen_ , Detective.”

She narrowed her eyes by didn’t say anything. Instead, she addressed Milewski: “We’d like to speak with the crew. They may know why Wiśniewski left.”

Milewski hesitated. “Crew’s Filipino, I believe. Bridge crew will have some English, but probably limited to ship operations. I can see if I can scare up a Tagalog interpreter, but I don’t know—”

“No need,” Lucifer announced, sounding chipper. Instead, he strode up the gangway.

Milewski chased after him. “You need permission…” Lucifer paid him no mind.

He caught up with the first seaman he saw and began speaking to him in what Chloe could only assume was Tagalog. She watched the man’s face shift from surprise to pleasure as he fell within the aura of Lucifer’s charm. He gestured for Lucifer to follow.

Lucifer arched an eyebrow at Chloe before he turned to follow. Chloe caught Milewski’s poleaxed expression before she scrambled after Lucifer. She ducked through a door but realized she’d lost him already. Damn him.

“Miss.” She turned at a voice.

Another sailor gestured for her to follow, and she trailed him through various doors and up multiple steep sets of stairs until she found herself in some sort of galley.

And there was Lucifer lounging in the center of it all, chatting away in the unfamiliar language.

Unable to participate, Chloe was left to observe. He should have looked out of place. Him with his ridiculous height, in his expensive suit, surrounded by short, slim men in coveralls or wearing cheap, black trousers and white short-sleeve shirts with assorted shoulder marks. But he didn’t. And he seemed to have the entire crew at ease. He was practically holding court.

He’d noticed she’d arrived, apparently. “Detective, do you have a picture of Aaron?”

Chloe pulled it up on her phone before a young sailor took it from her and it was passed around the room.

She watched the exchange as Lucifer directed remarks at different sailors. The occasional English words caught her ear: “cargo,” “American,” “dock,” “container,” “chain,” “hook.” She could only trust him to ask what was needed. The occasional flash of his grin and the laughter from the crew worried her that he wasn’t staying entirely on topic.

But then he caught her eye again and nodded, and she knew he’d learned what they’d needed. One of the sailors followed his gaze and asked a question. Lucifer’s eyes twinkled before he directed a remark back at him. Laughter rippled through the room, and Chloe felt her cheeks flame.

She cleared her throat.

Lucifer rose and said some words—of thanks, she could only hope—before joining her at the door. A chorus of “Paálam” followed him, and he returned the greeting before walking her toward the gangway.

He paused in one of the passageways when they were alone.

“Well, Detective, our unfortunate Aaron may have simply been the victim of bad luck. They had to stop work because of a damaged lashing hook. Aaron left to get a replacement and never came back.”

“He went to his last job site—that warehouse. Forgot his tools there?”

“So it would seem.” Lucifer frowned. “But that simply raises, what did he find when he went back?”

Chloe nodded. “We need to search that warehouse. Good work in there.”

He half-shrugged but she saw him preen a bit. “But of course, Det-Chloe.”

She’d noticed him struggling with what to call her these last few days and hid her smile. “So…languages? That’s a thing?”

He shrugged. “There’s really only one language, Detective.”

“Desire?” she guessed.

“Bingo.”

“And, of course, all languages are spoken in…” He bit the last word off in a cough. “Well.”

They were at the last door, but she stopped him before he ducked out into the sunshine, pulling him to the side. With a quick glance to check they were alone, she stepped close and wrapped her arms around his waist.

He tilted his head at her, wearing that familiar confused look.

She shrugged. “I’m just glad you’re here. That’s all. Now come on.”

She led their way back down the gangway to the amusingly-agitated Milewski and James.

* * *

“Back to the precinct or calling it a day?” Lucifer asked when they were back by their cars.

He was leaning against his Corvette, all long limbs and indolence. The late afternoon sun painted the side of his face with golden light that also limned the fingers of his left hand as they traced a slow pattern on the shining black hood at his side. Chloe swallowed and glanced at her phone.

“It’s after four. I want to make a call to Losopa to see if they’ll consent to a search or at least a sit down. But I can do that from home.”

When she glanced up, he was smiling, soft and longing.

“What?”

“You. In this light. I—” He cleared his throat. “Are we still on for tomorrow? I do believe you promised me a date?”

“Y-yeah, if Dan’s still good for his day with Trixie. He’s picking her up in the afternoon.” A thought occurred to her. “Lucifer, have you ever _been_ on a date?”

She supposed the smirk he gave her was supposed to be mysterious, but the answer was clear. Unless they counted burger-and-fries-no-ketchup.

Something must have shown on her face, because he grinned and said, “No pressure.”

She dropped her head to her hand, shaking with silent laughter. She felt his arms fall on her shoulders and glanced up, tears in her eyes. He looked down at her, head tilted to the left, smile real but tenuous, uncertain.

She gathered herself and said: “I’m looking forward to it, Lucifer.”

He brushed his lips against her forehead. “Until tomorrow, then?” he asked, walking toward his car.

“Lucifer,” she called after him. “You could come by now, for dinner, if you’re free. Trixie would love to see you, I know.”

Ah, she’d sell her soul for that wide smile that reached all the way to his eyes.

“It would be my pleasure.”

* * *

Lucifer was waiting in their driveway when she arrived home from picking up Trixie after karate practice. It was her new obsession. Chloe knew she missed “training” with Maze.

“Lucifer!” Trixie exclaimed upon seeing him.

She barreled straight into his legs and clung tight. Lucifer stiffened then patted her head in his usual show of discomfort.

“Yes, it’s good to see you, too, spawn.”

Chloe’s heart swooped more than it should have. He was trying. She didn’t know what she would’ve done if he wasn’t willing to. Chloe wrapped an arm around her daughter and hugged her away before it became too much.

“Ah.” He cleared his throat and reached back into the car. “I brought these, too.”

He pushed two bottles into Chloe’s hands. A bottle of red wine and a bottle of sparkling grape juice. Chloe blinked in surprise.

“Thanks, that’s…”

But he was heading for the door, so she followed. He opened it for her as if it had never been locked at all and gestured with a flourish for them to enter. Their own house. She hid another smile.

Chloe dished up Chicken Marsala from the slow cooker while Trixie told them _all_ about karate practice and then proceeded to demonstrate a series of moves for them.

“That’s great, Monkey.” Chloe set the plates on the table.

Lucifer was looking at Trixie, puzzled. “But…you don’t actually hit anyone?”

“It’s called a _kata_ , silly.”

“Hmmmm.”

“Dinner,” Chloe called.

* * *

Lucifer gathered plates and carried them to the kitchen sink after Trixie went to bed.

She’d insisted on a story and that Lucifer come listen, too. Chloe didn’t mind one bit. Her heart had hurt when her monkey had insisted earlier this year she didn’t need to be tucked in every night. It hurt even more that these last few weeks she’d practically clung to Chloe until she slept most nights. Tonight, she fell asleep smiling.

Chloe joined Lucifer at the sink, taking one of the dishes he’d rinsed. “So if you can speak… _everything_ , will you say something in…Czech?”

He rattled off a phrase that sounded slavic yet melodic to Chloe ears, and presented her another plate with a raised eyebrow.

“Alright, how about Hindi?”

He leaned close and although she had no idea what he said, he made the arrhythmic rises and falls sound seductive as hell. And then turned back to the dishes. He passed the last plate.

“Portugese?”

Oh now that grin was Devilish. He made the fluid lilt sound so positively dirty she had to still her towel or risk dropping the plate. Dishes done, he turned to top off their wine. She fanned herself once with the plate before setting it aside.

When he handed her her glass, she said, “Okay, how about Swahili?”

He offered her a toast full of rhythm and rises with a wink. She followed him into the living room and onto the couch. “Happy, darling?”

“One more, one more.” She reached through her memory for something difficult. “Basque. How about Basque?”

“I thought you were going to pick a hard one!” His arm snaked behind her on the back of the couch, and he looked in her eyes and spoke in a low yet compellingly lyrical tongue.

“So, what did you say?” she asked. “All of it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Darling, if you are going to ask me to speak in all these languages you don’t know, then you should just assume I am composing a multi-lingual sonnet to your beauty.” The twinkle in his eye told her the truth of that.

She choked out a laugh. “Dirty limericks more likely.”

He didn’t deny it, and she laughed harder. She saw him trying to keep a serious expression, but, when her arms wrapped around her belly, a smile split his face.

She got her laughter under control as he leaned in to brush her hair back. He skimmed a kiss against her temple and let his nose rest against her hair. When he pulled back to recline against the couch, she saw the merriment slide from his features. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to his mercurial shifts.

She caressed his knee hoping to steady him. “What?”

“I’m not sure. It’s strange, but I…” He was looking into the distance, past her hand.

She tightened her hold on his knee. “Tell me, please?” She waited, patient, until he spoke.

“Sometimes…this feels like a dream. And I wonder if I’m going to wake up and I’ll be back in that loft and this time everything will go differently and…”

She gripped his arm, turning him toward her, to stop the path of his thoughts. His gaze flitted to hers.

She looked deep into his eyes, making sure she had his attention. “This isn’t a dream and this _is_ how things have gone.”

Instead of being reassured, the storm only increased in his eyes. “But should…” He gave his head are hard shake. “Ah, never mind that. I should be grateful.” With that, his eyes were clear and a practiced placidity fell across his expression. “ _And_ I’ve really got to get going—I’m supposed to play a set at Lux. Birthday party for a certain studio head’s wife. Until tomorrow then?”

Chloe sighed as he disappeared behind the door.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not getting this up on schedule last night. Work and travel issues. But it's a longer chapter, so enjoy!

Dan went home Friday stuck on Mulvaney’s proposition. He tried ignoring it. That night, Dan was passed out by eight. But it was on his mind first thing when he woke up Saturday morning.

Dan stared at Detective Rodriguez’s card. He’d been looking at it off and on as he drank his way through a pot of black coffee. _Fuck it_.

He dialed.

“Detective Rodriguez.” Of course, it was a work phone.

“Detective, this is Dan Espinoza.”

“What can I do for you, Detective Espinoza?”

“I was wondering...if there was somewhere we could meet to talk. Somewhere private.”

There was a pause. “Detective, you know I can’t talk to you about the investigation into Marcus Pierce or Ms. Richards’ case.”

“It’s not…it’s not about that. Please? I can meet you anytime today.”

There was a pause. “Alright, there’s a coffee shop on Hillhurst at Franklin. Can you meet me there in an hour?”

Dan arrived first and took his coffee to a table in the corner. He’d been impressed with Rodriguez’s handling of the Pierce investigation. As frustrating as he found being kept on the outside, it was professional. He’d been evenhanded and reasonable each of the times he’d interviewed Dan. And, as much as Dan had tried to track the investigation, there’d been few leaks from his team until arrests were made or searches executed. As gossipy as cops were, that took discipline.

Nonetheless there was something distinctly uncomfortable about sitting down with him. It felt like he was breaking the rules, like he was a snitch. But he tried to imagine what Chloe would think. What Charlotte would say. What awaited him.

So, Dan took a breath and explained. He shared everything except Boris, Warden Smith, and the Russian Mob.

Rodriguez nodded. “We’ve had an eye on Detective Mulvaney for a while.” He gave an appraising look that left Dan with impression that they’d had an eye on him, too. “We’re aware he’s been working with this group.”

“Oh,” Dan said. He’d confessed a great deal to this IAG detective apparently for nothing. Even if most of it was from over a dozen years ago, he felt a creeping dread.

Rodriguez was studying him, making Dan feel like a bug. Could the other man see his guilty conscience? That he’d only marginally sobered up from last night’s bender? That he was barely holding together?

Rodriguez blew out a breath and nodded, apparently coming to a decision before continuing: “What we didn’t know is that they are planning a move. They’ve been quiet for the better part of a year. We don’t know who’s in charge or most of the members.”

Dan looked up in surprise. Rodriguez was sharing a lot.

“We also don’t have anyone inside.”

 _Ah_.

“You want me to…?”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but, if we can avoid them getting back off the ground, we can make a real difference. You’ve been on the force a long time, Espinoza, and your record is…checkered.”

Dan glanced down at the spoon he’d been fidgeting with at that.

“But that makes you well suited for this. They have reason to trust you, and you’re no inexperienced rookie. I’m not going to sit here and try to sell you that this isn’t without risk, but you have a chance to do some real good, Espinoza.”

 _Real good._ Dan swallowed. “I need to think about it.”

“I understand. When does Mulvaney expect an answer from you?”

“I’m not sure. Soon?”

“Why don’t you spend today thinking about? Give me a call and let me know what you decide. Just—please don’t discuss this with anyone on the force, not even your ex.”

“Chloe? But she’s-”

“We’ve got strict protocols for this type of operation for a reason. If you want to do this, I need you to understand and agree to that.”

Dan looked down at his fingers, wrapped around his now-cold coffee.

Rodriguez stood and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever you decide, it’s okay.”

* * *

Dan left the coffee shop in a haze. He found himself driving to the overlook in Griffith Park where Charlotte had been killed without really realizing it.

It was midday on a beautiful Saturday, so there were people around. And no signs of the crime that had torn his life apart. He stopped a distance away from where he’d found Charlotte. He didn’t need to be right _there_. This was enough to feel close to her.

His legs folded under him of their own accord, and he found himself sitting on the grass by the overlook. He could understand why she liked this view. Especially now he understood so much better what she’d been struggling with.

Was this the place to start making things right? Could he balance his ledger? Charlotte had and that gave him hope. He wished for the thousandth time she was there to talk to. Wished he could’ve been there for her when she’d faced this. Was it right to take this risk, or was it selfish?

He had been sitting there an unknown amount of time when Chloe called wondering if he was still planning on picking Trixie up.

“If you’re not up to it, I understand. We’re here for you, Dan.”

“Thanks. I’ll be by in about an hour?” Of course she was there for him. But how could he explain how he wasn’t right? She’d never understand about Warden Smith. About any of it. Shame flamed hot within him. _Not as hot as the flames of Hell_ , he imagined.

* * *

Chloe pushed her sunglasses onto her head as she drove into the garage below Lux. She parked in what had become her usual space—always empty—before taking the elevator up.

Her text to him earlier that day had suggested he might dress down. He had, a smidge. His outfit reminded her of the one he’d worn to the beach the day they’d arrested Justine Doble for the murder of Manny “the Moondog” Taylor. A tan blazer with a hint of texture in the fabric over a light blue button-down shirt with the top buttons undone; no vest. Dark blue trousers skinny and cut short above the tan loafers he wore sock-less. A pocket square was in place, of course.

He grinned at her scrutiny and let his own fall to her casual capris and top and down to her flats. “So where are you taking me, then?”

“You’ll have to wait a little longer to see.”

His eyes took a much slower path as they drifted upward, the undisguised interest a palpable heat between them. Her heartbeat fluttered, and she bit her lip. His gaze stuck when it reached her mouth and she heard his sharp inhalation. Chloe found it difficult to breathe under the intensity of his gaze. All of her new relationships had been full of such moments, but with Lucifer it was turned up to ten.

She cleared her throat and blinked. “Come on.” She grabbed his hand and drew him into the elevator before she could become any more distracted.

“I know this is your date, but shall I drive? It’s far too lovely an afternoon for your Dodge.”

She raised an eyebrow. But it _was_ too beautiful, so she acceded. Once they were in the car, she gave him directions generally east from Lux.

She pulled her sunglasses back on against the late afternoon sun and flipped open the glove box to hand Lucifer his. He put them on with a flourish and smiled his thanks before revving the ’vette onto the street. The heat of the day still sat on the late afternoon, and Chloe enjoyed the warmth against her skin.

She’d picked her destination because she wanted something fun and light and distracting. And, above all, _normal_. She wanted a little normal. Only now she was unaccountably nervous. Her normal wasn’t his normal, and she’d picked _such_ a pedestrian activity.

Glancing at the directions on her phone, she instructed him to take a right and then a left.

The corvette slid under the colorful sign spanning the drive proclaiming ‘Storybook Miniature Golf.’

Yes, she was taking the Devil mini-golfing.

The sun was lighting him from behind so she couldn’t quite catch his expression as he said: “Really? Interesting choice, darling.”

She shrugged. “Think of it as a dating rite of passage.”

“Will we then be sandwiched between groups of pimply teens?”

“Have to see, won’t we?”

She helped him find the longest putter available, and selected an appropriate one for herself. He presented her with a light blue ball and, of course, had selected a red one for himself. She confiscated the score card and miniature pencil.

“Detectives first.” He gestured for her to precede him when they reached the first hole.

“Watch how it’s done,” she said with a smirk, lining up the ball between her turquoise flats. She gave a little practice swing before hitting the ball straight and true. The first hole was a straightforward one, and her ball followed the dip in the green to come to rest six inches from the hole.

When she looked up, his eyes were on her and not at all her skilled stroke.

“Seems simple enough,” he said.

She gestured for him to take his place

She resisted the urge to adjust his stance. He’d figure it out. He tended, after all, to be annoyingly good at things. And, everything considered, he didn’t pull the club back all _that_ far, but he still wildly overshot the ball with enough force to pop it out of the green and onto the path beyond. She hid her snicker in her hand.

“Just collect it and try again,” she said when he gave her a questioning look. “Maybe a little softer. It’ll count as a stroke penalty is all.”

“That hardly seems fair.” But he went to collect the ball.

On the second try, he kept the ball on the green but ended up taking the stroke-maximum, whereas she knocked the ball in on her second putt.

By mid-course, Lucifer was nearly holding his own. She’d saw him studying her form and so threw in some extraneous wiggles and flourishes. He noticed, naturally, and threw them right back at her. And damn him for being so sexy doing something so ridiculous.

The breeze picked up as the sun started to set, rustling the palm trees overhead. Lights began to illuminate around the course as the day dimmed. She teased him when her shot rolled straight through Cinderella’s castle but his bounced off the wall. He retaliated by standing right behind her and blowing in her ear while she lined up her next putt. It went wide.

“Stop that,” she said, trying to hide her blush.

He just laughed and took the first stroke at the next hole.

They caught up to the party in front of them and had to wait, so she tallied the score so far. He peered over her shoulder.

“I have quite a lead.”

“Pfft. I hardly see how more strokes is a _bad_ thing.”

“Context.”

“Mmmmm.” He was closer still. “Maybe we’ll have to see about putting some strokes in _context_ later, hm?”

She sniggered and turned to face him, very close now. She wrapped her arms loosely around his waist. She noticed it still took him a moment to put his arms around her. “Maybe we will.”

A throat cleared behind them, and Chloe jumped back. A mom with a group of teenage boys. Chloe flushed and badly missed her first stroke on the now-clear hole ahead. Lucifer managed to sink the ball before she did, only…

“What bloody nonsense is this?”

Chloe peered at the hole and saw that it led into a tube that took balls down to a second green. Leaning over a low rock wall with a Humpty Dumpty sculpture on one end, she directed him to where his ball sat a solid five feet from the second hole. He was definitely muttering something about tortures in Hell as they took the path to the lower green. But his putt was clean, and he was mollified.

They’d reached the last hole and the dreaded windmill. The four blades turned at a slow pace. It shouldn’t be that hard. She lined up her shot and timed her swing…and yet still managed to ricochet off a sweeping blade. Her second shot, though, sailed through.

Lucifer was not so lucky. His first two shots hit the spinning blades. His third clanked against the metal side of the windmill. His fourth shot was truly unfortunate. It somehow stopped halfway through the windmill. She was about to laugh at the look of consternation on his face when he took the club in both hands and bent it into a right angle without a thought.

“Lucifer,” she said, half surprise, half admonition. He was breaking the evening’s little spell of _ordinary_.

He grinned and waved the bent club, not noticing her dismay. “I still have two strokes left.” He proceeded to stick the bent end of the club under the windmill and gave a little swing to pop the ball out.

She pushed the sudden little wave of anxiety away and joined Lucifer on the other side of the windmill. She knocked her ball into the hole and turned to him, eyeing the bent, useless club dangling from his hand. “Now what?”

He shrugged, clearly done with mini-golf, and kicked the ball into the final hole. “You can score that as ‘maximum strokes.’”

“You’re just lucky I can’t add any additional penalties.” She looked at the bent club and wondered what she was going to say to the attendant.

“Here.” He pushed cash into her hand. “Give him a hundie and he won’t care about a bent shaft.” He paused. “Or at least not _this_ bent shaft.” He looked disappointed when she couldn’t quite muster an eye roll.

After she returned the clubs—Lucifer had been right about the ‘hundie’—she found him peering into an ice cream cooler, hands in his pockets, studying the selections. The Devil had a substantial taste for junk food. When she approached, he looked up as if perfectly attuned to her and she wondered…

But then a pleased smile broke across his face at seeing her, and she let it banish her unease.

“I take it I did not prevail,” he said, eyeing the scorecard in her hand.

“Uh, no.” She laughed. “Not even close. Maybe next time, Lucifer.”

“It’s a good thing I like watching you win,” he said with a teasing heat, stepping closer.

“Is that so?” She raised her chin.

“Mm. Very much.”

He was looming over her now, dark eyes gone darker. The next thing she knew, she was pressed up against the side of the Coke machine in the space between it and the ice cream cooler. He was exploring her mouth thoroughly. She grasped his arms, pulling herself to him. Their hips met and her foot started to rise along his leg…

She pushed him back just as suddenly when she heard approaching voices.

He raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t necking in public also a dating rite of passage?”

“Um. Maybe.” She could feel the flush in her cheeks. “But I’m a member of the LAPD. I can’t get cited for public indecency, Lucifer.” She stepped away even though she was sorely tempted let him continue. “Besides, we’re not done with this date. I have dinner planned. Dinner that’s not you,” she added at the waggle of his eyebrows.

Dinner at Manuel’s. The hole-in-the-wall family-run Mexican restaurant had been a favorite of hers as a teen. Deliciously normal.

* * *

Trixie bit her lip as she smashed the foam covered mallet onto the arcade whac-a-mole. Dan leaned against a low rail separating this part of the arcade from an area filled with classic cabinet games. He’d faked enthusiasm through several rounds of roll-a-ball water-gun races even though his mind had been churning through his problems. A skill for pretending to be present he hated to admit he’d well developed during his separation from Chloe and even before. At least the arcade was cool and dim and quieter than the boardwalk in a way despite the combined jingles and trumpets of the assorted games.

Tears pricked his eyes as he watched the extreme concentration on his daughter’s face. Each time he saw her, she struck him as a little more mature, as having a better sense of herself in the world. It was dizzying, sometimes, watching her grow. He’d catch flashes of expression or turns of phrase that were pure Chloe and then a gesture or laugh he knew was his own and finally all the little pieces that were unconditionally and simply Trixie. She was turning into the person she would become before his eyes.

He thought about her one day learning about the things he’d done, and he had to grip the railing behind him tighter to keep from falling as his stomach swooped with nausea. Hot shame washed over him. He wanted to be a good role model for his daughter. Of course he did. Wanted her to be proud of her father. And then there was the pang that came from the thought of being seperated from her for all eternity. How had Charlotte managed to go from one day to the next, much less find a way to move forward?

Trixie’s huff of frustration as she tossed down the mallet brought Dan back to the present. A couple of damp strands of hair were plastered to her forehead from her exertion.

“Last quarter,” she said, tearing off the string of red tickets spit out by the machine and folding them, accordion style.

“Want to pick out a prize?”

Outside, Dan held the stuffed monkey Trixie had picked while she rode the giant swing ride. He’d begged off, already feeling nauseated enough. Instead, he watched the crowd flow along the boardwalk. The people in their summer clothes felt far away even as they moved all around him. He felt like he was both there and not there. Like the sun had grown dim even though it was an iconic L.A. sunny afternoon.

He didn’t notice the ride had ended until he felt a tug on his hand and looked down at his daughter in surprise. Her forehead was creased in a frown.

“Dad, I miss Miss Charlotte, too. Mom says it’s okay to be sad.”

Dan sucked in a breath. _Get it together, man_. He crouched down to Trixie’s level, smoothing her hair back. “Your mom is one smart mommy. I do miss Charlotte. But I’m happy to be here with you, too. Now, how about that pizza at Pizzano’s?”

“Yes!” Trixie fist-pumped, her mood shifting in a flash.

* * *

The next morning, the sun streamed through his gossamer curtains and fell through in a brighter band across the foot of the bed where Lucifer hadn’t closed them. Chloe was lying with her head on his chest, her golden hair spilling across him, glowing in the warm morning light.

She’d asked him about his wings. Wanted the gaps filled in. She was a detective, after all. He feared what would happen on the day she asked one too many questions and she couldn’t stomach the answer. This one wasn’t so bad, though, so he’d focused on the telling and pushed his worries down.

She asked questions but mostly let him talk. She was looking toward the ceiling. At moments, he wished he could see her face better, but it was also easier this way. He let his hand run back and forth over her arm. She stiffened when he spoke about removing his wings but didn’t interrupt.

When he was done, she said, “I’m sorry that…that you went through that. Are they healed now? Will you show them to me? When you’re ready?”

Lucifer wasn’t prepared for the wave of emotion that broke over him. He was quite sure he couldn’t name all he felt. But guilt was there. Fear, too. Possibly longing, which made no sense at all.

He hadn’t had his wings out since that day, that day… He wasn’t even sure he _could_. After all, if he’d regained them because he’d felt better about himself, what did he feel now? Not better, that was certain. He was reluctant to find out whether they would appear if summoned. Didn’t want the confirmation if they wouldn’t.

“Perhaps some other time,” he said, forcing a light tone.

“Mmmmm. I’m here for you, you know. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Some things didn’t change. She said the words, but he couldn’t. Not really. In the end, he settled for a noncommittal sound.

Chloe rolled onto her side, taking his hand in both of hers. He stared at the back of her head, unsure how she was taking his nonresponse. She fiddled with his fingers.

She nearly startled him when she spoke. “When you said your Father put me in your path, what did you mean?”

He stroked her hair, trying to gather the thoughts he’d struggled with for so long. “I jumped to several…rash conclusions, as I told you.”

“You? I can’t imagine.” She was teasing, but her voice lacked lightness.

“Me, yes. But as to why He put you here—we’d only be guessing because the bloody Bastard isn’t in the habit of sharing His Plans, not even with His children, even the ones He hasn’t…well.”

“But it has something to do with you?”

Lucifer blew out a breath. Even there, he couldn’t be completely certain. Yet… “Fairly sure. He knew I would leave Hell, of course, and where I’d go. Being Him and all. And He had Amenadiel ensure you’d be here at this time. And we know He made you immune to my powers for…some reason. You seem surprisingly resistant to my devil face, so maybe you are immune to that, as well. Or maybe that’s because you are a good person. People tend to…react…to that face based on their guilt.”

“I’m not as perfect as you seem to think,” she muttered. “So just your powers? Not your brother’s?”

He pictured her frozen and remembered how much fun he’d had shocking her by moving while Amenadiel slowed time. “Nope. He didn’t have his powers most of the time you knew him, though.”

“Another story you’ll have to tell at some point. Have I met any of your other siblings?”

“No, and be glad of it.”

“You—you said you were afraid what’s between us was engineered by your Father, that I didn’t have a choice, but that you changed your mind…”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” He continued when she didn’t respond: “I jumped to that conclusion. But Dr. Linda helped me realize I was using it as an excuse, because I was, well, afraid.” He shook his head. “After I was honest with myself about that, it was easier to see you were making your own choices. About…well, everything, really.”

She’d pulled his hand to rest over her heart, and he could feel it was beating too fast. When she still didn’t respond, he raised his head to see the frown on her face. The silence was killing him.

“And, really, if my father wanted us together, why would he make it so damn hard?” he tried to joke.

When she spoke, it was abrupt. “You jumped to that conclusion. Why?”

“I—” He felt his face heat. The Devil _definitely_ didn’t blush. “When we started to get together, everything felt out of control. Not at all like I was _choosing_ anything.” He caught her chin with two fingers and turned her head toward him. If he was going to bare his soul, he needed to see her. “It was rather like a freight train and confusing as a Kardashian in a library.”

“Oh, Lucifer. That’s how it feels…”

“I—I don’t have enough experience with these emotions. I’d only observed from the outside and it all seemed different looking in, believe me. But with you…” He ran the back of his fingers along her cheek. “So maybe that’s why it was so easy to believe it—us—wasn’t a choice. Well, that and wondering why you were suddenly interested in me after being so stubbornly resistant to my charms.” He affected a mock-reproachful tone on the last, hoping to win a smile, but she remained thoughtful. “But you know what I learned? Feelings are a bloody mess, but choosing to be with someone is the choice.”

Lucifer waited for her reaction, but she merely nodded. Had he said too much, then? When she spoke, it wasn’t to acknowledge his confession, but to circle back to his Father of all bloody things.

“But if your Father put me here…in your path…and made me immune to your powers, did He—” She swallowed and seemed to have trouble continuing. “—make me, like, other ways? Like, my personality, or, like, how I would feel about things, or…?”

Lucifer wanted to give her an answer and one that would make her happy. But he didn’t know the truth of any of that. It didn’t even strike him as a particularly important question. Nonetheless, he offered her what he could.

“With His own children, He, well, He created us the way He created us, gave us the natures and powers He chose, and expected obedience.” He tasted his bitterness when he said the last. “But He didn’t control us in the moment. He just expected…and most of us didn’t...most didn’t even consider there might be a choice. But for all the many reasons I resent my Father, I don’t begrudge Him for my God-given abilities. As I told Linda once, my powers are perfect for me. I don’t know why. It just is. It’s just who I am, maybe.”

She didn't respond.

“Is it possible that, like us, He shaped your nature? Perhaps? After all you are a _remarkably_ good and forgiving woman.” He smiled at her, hoping for an eye roll for his flattery, but her frown remained unmoved. “Maybe He just made you someone good enough that you could possibly feel this way about someone like me. But that’s just…that’s just your personality. Who you are. Like desire is part of who I am.”

Her frown deepened. He wasn’t explaining very well.

“Besides, we don’t know that He put you here for _this_ rather than some other reason.”

“What other reasons could there be?”

“Him and His ineffable plans, it… it hardly bears thinking about, really.” He tried a laugh even though he was skirting far closer to bluff than he desired with her. She only look more concerned. “Do you think he had any great thought behind the aardvark, the giraffe, the cuttlefish?”

She stared, but there was a twitch of a smile at last. “Did you just…compare me to an aardvark?”

“A very sexy aardvark?” he suggested with a twitch of an eyebrow.

“Says the giant bird-man.”

“Hey!” he objected. “I’ll have you know—”

But his tirade was interrupted by her stomach’s growl.

“Hungry?”

Her mood seemed to have broken, because she batted her eyes and asked: “What do you have in mind?”

A true laugh bubbled up from his stomach. “Stealing my lines, are you?”

She shrugged but her eyes crinkled. She opened her mouth to reply, but her stomach growled again.

This, Lucifer could help with. “Why don’t you shower and I’ll fix us some brekkie. Sound good?”

Lucifer cooked breakfast and ground coffee beans—a Guatemalan blend—while Chloe showered. When she came out with her damp hair hanging loose over the shoulders of one of his robes, she was smiling. He felt something inside he hadn’t realized was knotted come undone.

“What’s for breakfast?” She wrapped her arms around his waist as he poured hot water over the coffee grounds.

“I’ve crepes and bacon. And coffee, of course.”

“Mmmmm,” she hummed into his back. “Sounds delicious.”

He uncovered two plates resting on the bar and set mugs of coffee alongside.

She eyed the stack of newspapers he’d fanned out on the bar top and raised an eyebrow.

“Is that not what couples do on a lazy Sunday morning? Eat breakfast, drink coffee, read the paper?”

She dissolved in laughter and he wasn’t sure whether to be offended.

“Sorry, sorry. Not a lot of lazy Sunday mornings for a single mom. I read most of my news on my phone. But I love the idea.”

She squeezed his arm, and he couldn’t help his pleased smile. He watched her dig into the crepes before taking a bite of his own and relished the delighted sounds she made. They were not _entirely_ unlike the ones she made in bed.

“Did you make different fillings _for all three_ of the crepes?” she asked, incredulous.

“I wasn’t sure which you liked?”

“You can ask, you know.”

“Well, which do you like?”

She bit her lip, and there was a twinkle in her eye. “All of them?”

When they’d finished eating and he’d made them another coffee, Chloe pulled the _L.A. Times_ off the pile and took his hand, leading him to the couch. He sat and pulled her down until she was leaning against him. He read about trivial human machinations over her shoulder, providing a running commentary. But he mostly studied her neck and her drying hair and the part of her lips.

Chloe grew quieter and quieter. Lucifer thought she seemed lost in her thoughts, a frown tugging at her mouth.

She stood and announced that she needed to go collect Trixie from Dan’s. Lucifer followed her.

He was sure now something was bothering her as she fumbled with gathering her things. He stopped her before she could head to the elevator, laying an uncertain hand on her arm.

“Is everything okay…?”

“Yeah….yeah, I’m fine.” She shrugged. “It’s just, well, Sundays, you know. Thinking about the case and how little progress we’ve made and what we’ll need to do this week.”

Lucifer felt that intense feeling in his chest again. The one he’d felt on the balcony. He cupped her face in his hands. Her eyes met his and he could see they were stormy. He ran his thumbs along her cheekbones, mesmerized by how beautiful she was.

“One of the things I-I love about you is how much you care. How much you want to help people and see justice done. You’re a remarkable woman, Chloe Decker.”

He felt her draw in a breath, and when she blinked her eyes looked a touch wet, but she didn’t say anything, only giving a slight jerk of her head in acknowledgment. For the life of him, Lucifer couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She seemed upset, which he didn’t understand, but he wasn’t the best at judging these things.

She took his hands in hers before she brushed her lips against his. “Thank you, Lucifer. I’m fine. Really.” Her smile seemed forced to Lucifer. “See you at the precinct tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

* * *

Chloe was miserable driving home. She’d lied to Lucifer, but she didn’t know where to begin with what she was feeling. She couldn’t find order for her thoughts.

Worse, she pulled up to her spot only to find a demon leaning against her slick black Audi R8 Spyder with crossed arms. Chloe put her car in park and slammed the door.

Maze pushed off her car and toward Chloe with all her typical attitude in place. “Decker. You’re looking good. Considering.” Maze cocked her head at her. “Most people wouldn’t take knowing about us so well.”

“Maze. What are you doing here?”

“Linda thought—I wanted to say—look, Decker, I know I screwed up.”

Chloe crossed her arms. She’d been giving it some thought—and she feared the worst—but she still didn’t know exactly what Maze had done.

“You helped Pierce.”

Maze looked down before meeting her eyes, challenging. “Yeah. I did.”

“Why?”

“I want to go home! Everything here sucked and was hard, and I wanted to go home.”

“So you were helping Pierce to kill Lucifer? How would that help?”

“That wasn’t the plan!”

“So what _was_ your plan then?” Chloe’s fists were pressing so hard into her hips she was pretty sure she was leaving bruises.

Maze looked away for a moment. It was so uncharacteristic it was telling. But a moment later, she was back in Chloe’s face. “He wanted to die, okay. We were going to kill him and frame Lucifer for his murder. If Lucifer’s life here was ruined, he’d have to go back to Hell. And he’d take me with him.”

She didn’t sugarcoat it, that was for damn sure.

It took Chloe a minute to find her breath and then find her words.

“You were pushing me toward him hoping I would fall in love when you knew he planned to die? That’s just cruel. Ruthless.”

“That’s what I told him!”

Chloe gaped at her.

“I wasn’t thinking about it. I wasn’t thinking about _you_. I was just—done. I was just done.”

“Maze, how can you expect me to say that that’s okay?”

“It was Cain’s plan.” Maze’s voice was small.

“You worked to destroy my life! Lucifer’s life!” Chloe’s heart clenched at the thought of Lucifer chased back to Hell.

It was a ridiculous plan. It had so many flaws. But the breathtaking intention of it.

“You’d do that to me? To him?”

Maze jutted her chin out. “If he’d just taken me home when I’d asked… Besides, I didn’t think he’d be unhappy for long. Once we were back where we belong. He’d remember that.”

Chloe’s heart hurt. Especially now that she knew it was all true, so many comments had clicked into place and Chloe understood how much Lucifer hated that place. Yet Maze, who had known him so long, misunderstood him so fundamentally. She suspected the misunderstanding ran both ways between them.

“Does he know?”

Maze gave a hard negative shake of her head. “I’m sure he’s figured out some. But he’s too self-centered to understand what I wanted.”

“I don’t know what’s between you and him. Obviously, there’s more history there than I could ever know. But Maze!”

“I’m a demon! What do you expect?”

“Demon or not, I thought we were friends.”

“You don’t understand. Just because you think you know Lucifer… Just because you think you’ve got him so tamed… You don’t know. You don’t.”

“So that’s it? It’s your nature? I can’t expect better?”

Maze looked sullen. “Look, Decker, I’m trying. I screwed up. I did. I already said it.” She crossed her arms again.

“So I should just be okay with you trying to ruin my life and forgive you?”

“I came here because I wanted to say I’m sorry. I don’t know what else you want.”

Maze looked incredibly uncomfortable and a part of Chloe—the mothering part—wanted to let her off the hook and tell her it would be fine.

“I don’t know,” Chloe said. “I need to think.”

* * *

When Dan dropped Trixie off, he noticed Chloe was agitated, bouncing her leg and fidgeting her fingers.

“Hey, Monkey,” she greeted, dipping down to give their daughter a hug. “Did you have a good weekend?”

Trixie rattled off their activities in not-quite chronological order. Chloe nodded along. When Trixie was done, Chloe sent her to wash up for dinner.

She glanced up at Dan. “Sounds like you had a nice weekend.”

“Yeah, yeah, we did,” Dan answered and then paused. “Chloe, do you ever…” But the words died on his tongue.

She didn’t seem to notice. When she focused on Dan, she asked, “She good for you?”

Dan nodded. “Hey, everything okay, Chlo?”

“Yeah, yeah. Tough case and…. No big deal. Just need to keep working forward, right?”

Dan nodded. Keep working forward. That sounded exactly right. He called Mulvaney from his car, telling him he was in and asking him if he wanted to grab a drink that night. Nothing like ripping the Band-Aid off. Then he called Rodriguez telling him the same and asking to meet at the coffeeshop.

He flipped through pictures from the weekend on his phone while he waited for Rodriguez. Trixie on the Ferris wheel, Trixie playing skee-ball, a selfie of the two of them on the boardwalk. Dan was no fool. He knew what he was doing was dangerous, that he could end up hurting his daughter, his ex-wife, his friends. But the alternative…the alternative was unacceptable.

Rodriguez slid into the seat opposite him. “I was glad to get your call. You’re doing a real service.”

“Yeah. Seems like the _least_ I can do,” Dan said. “You’re going to need to hold my hand through this, though, Rodriguez.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” He grinned, all bright white teeth and genuine humor.

If there was any silvering lining to the whole screwed up situation, Dan liked Rodriguez.

“You drink coffee, Espinoza? Go to coffee shops?”

“Yeah. My ex and I used to joke about who needed the higher coffee budget.”

“Perfect, then we’ll set up a drop here. The employee lot in the back is also secluded, if we need to meet in person from here on out. You have your phone?”

Dan nodded, pulling it out.

“Do you mind?” Rodriguez asked, holding out his hand.

Dan handed the phone over and watched as Rodriguez deleted the calls to himself from the history and changed some of the location and tracking settings. He then added a contact for “Cute Barista” and entered a number.

“This is a clean number for this case only. I’ll do my best to be available to answer any time, day or night. But it’s better if we meet in person. We’re dealing with cops. I don’t put an illegal tap past this group. Try to limit texts and keep them vague when they’re necessary. Try ‘thinking of you’ if you’ve left me something here. I’ll text ‘you too’ when I’ve received it, and ‘you haven’t been by in a while’ if I’ve left something for you. You can use ‘miss your smile’ if you need to meet immediately. If I can’t get here within an hour, I’ll text, ‘I get off at _whatever time I can meet._ ’”

Rodriguez pulled a laptop out of his bag and plugged Dan’s phone into it. “I’m going to replace the Shazam app on your phone with our own app. It will look the same, but you can use it to record audio or video and securely upload it to a server for this purpose. I’ll show how to use it. Just don’t update your phone!”

“You were pretty sure I was going to say yes?”

Rodriguez shrugged. “I hoped you were. If you want to leave me anything in writing, try to write it out here rather than carry it with you.”

They met for another two hour, moving from protocols to rules to situations Dan might encounter. By the end, Dan’s head was spinning. But rather than scared he felt hopeful for the first time in days.

* * *

After dinner and putting Trixie to bed and after Chloe’d run out of rote tasks to distract herself, that sick feeling settled back into the pit of her stomach with a vengeance. The idea that she had been created to play a role, whatever it might be, in someone else’s life just felt so _wrong_. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe it, but it felt to her like a fundamental violation of the way things should be. The idea of _any_ purpose felt icky to her. Much less one designed around someone else. Existence was supposed to be random and life was what you made of it.

She thought about all the people she’d heard over the years take comfort in God’s plan or putting something in God’s hands. Grieving parents, injured officers, distraught spouses. With her lack of belief, she never had, of course. Even in the abstract, she’d found the idea the opposite of comforting. Which, ironically, put her very much in line with Lucifer. Or perhaps _not_ ironically. Had God shaped that part of her personality, too? _Oh, fuck_.

It was icky. Icky and wrong and how _dare_ He.

She thought about her life. How she ended up a cop. How she valued justice…and punishment. How she was right where she was the moment she met Lucifer. And she shut down those thoughts.

Worse, she realized Lucifer’d basically told her he loved her…even mentioned the word… and she hadn’t even…


	9. Chapter 9

Chloe threw water on her face, determined to have a fresh start to her week. She'd fallen into an exhausted sleep late but had slept surprisingly deeply until her alarm sounded. She took in her reflection, her familiar features made strange by recent revelation. She shook her head. No. There was no resolution at hand for her turmoil, and she would not let it—or Him—rule her. She would find a little box for her unease and shove it away. Have what she wanted. She didn't want to screw up this thing with Lucifer. Not because of something she couldn't control. Everything was okay; she'd make sure it was.

When she got to the precinct, she checked her messages. She'd received no call back from Losopa Corp., so she placed another call. Voicemail again; she left another request. She searched the internet and checked the Secretary of State's listings for other publicly-listed numbers for the company, and tried them, as well, to the same result.

Just as she'd left her last message, Lucifer arrived with her usual coffee—and very nearly on time. She gave him a brilliant smile—both because her heart did a happy little leap upon seeing him and to make up for the bit of guilt she was feeling. His incredibly pleased look in return was its own reward.

She accepted the coffee with both hands, feeling his retreating fingers brush against hers. "Thanks." The word seemed to stick in her throat. "Ah, I've had unis running down plates from the port surveillance videos. They're still working but gave me a list that might be worth follow up. You up for some interviews? Can't promise they'll be interesting."

He shrugged. "We shall see."

On the way to the parking garage, when no one else was looking, she threw an arm around his waist. He startled and looked at her like she'd lost her mind for a moment. But then he returned the gesture before sliding into her car.

He was unusually quiet for the first ten minutes of the drive. When he spoke, it was in a rush. "Listen, about yesterday…are you sure…is everything okay? If you want to talk—I've heard boyfriends are supposed to listen? Or if you have more questions, or…or if you need space, or—"

"No! No." She cut off his floundering. This was not _his_ fault and she truly didn't want to burden him. "Everything is _fine_. Great!" She kept her eyes on the road. "Don't you ever just, I don't know, get caught up in thinking about the next day? Work and stuff?"

"No?"

She glanced over, and he was eyeing her with his head tilted to the side. "Maybe it's more of a thing when you have to work for a living, day in day out."

He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to spot the lie. He'd always been good at detecting lies, just maybe not from her.

By one, they'd run down three dead ends, and she suggested they grab lunch. They ate burritos from a food truck at a picnic table by the beach. The sun was warm on her shoulders and she shrugged out of her jacket and laid it on the bench beside her. He was fastidious eating his lunch, catching any sauce before it could drip past the wrapper, the tip of his tongue darting out to clean his lip. When he was done, he balled the paper in his fist before dropping it on the table.

She reached across the table and brushed his fingers with hers. He took her hand in response and kissed her knuckles. He tipped his head to the right, eyes turning teasing, as he shifted her hand to give the pad of her thumb a playful bite.

She blinked, heat rising in her cheeks and elsewhere.

"Lucifer, we're in a public park!"

"What? You had a bit of sauce on your thumb."

And she must have, or he wouldn't have said it. She laughed and pulled her hand away.

"You know, darling, if we're dating, you're going to have to get used to a little exhibitionism."

She was prepared to roll her eyes but stopped herself. All things considered, he did meet her halfway on more than she'd appreciated before she understood where he was coming from. She could try to do the same.

She rose and came around to sit on the bench beside him, leaning back against the table, facing him. Close enough their legs pressed together, and she rested a hand high on his thigh.

He raised an eyebrow.

She reached up to caress his cheek. Her thumb stroked along the stubble of his jaw. It was just a moment before she drew him down for kiss. He didn't hesitate long. With a little sound in his throat, he pressed his lips to the bow of hers. She heard the ding of a bike bell on the nearby path and pulled back to look up at him.

His lips rose leaving him looking both pleased and uncertain.

"Okay. I'll try to get used to it," she said, offering a flirtatious flutter of her eyelashes.

He huffed out a laugh of disbelief. Probably at her mugging. She knew his opinion of her flirting.

She shrugged and said, "Come on. We've got a few more vehicle owners to talk to."

She tried to reassure him—and herself—throughout the day with a brush of her fingers against his here and a hand on his arm there. Somehow, he managed to seem startled each time even though they'd never been shy about touching one another before.

Although they made no progress on the case, she felt it was a day well spent establishing that everything was okay. So she was startled when, as they were about to part ways back in the parking garage, he asked, "Are you _sure_ everything is alright?"

"Of-Of course!" She flushed but hid it by drawing him close in an embrace, resting her cheek against the cool, soft fabric of his shirt. "Everything is perfect. I-I want to talk to Trixie about us tonight, if that's alright," she said in a rush.

She pulled back when she felt him shift. He was looking down at her, perplexed, so she added: "I'd-I'd like you to stay over sometimes, if you want. She's—a lot has happened lately, and I don't want her to feel like I'm hiding things from her."

His brows knitted together. "If you're _sure_ …?"

She nodded, settling her chin against his chest as she looked up at him. She forced her anxiety back down. He had no answers for her. She would be the strong one here. She could be sure. "Lucifer, I wanted to…About yesterday, I should've…I-I feel the same way. I'm glad we—that we're finally— I choose this, too."

His eyes widened before an uncertain grin spread across his face. She was pleased to have put it there. After a moment, though, his expression turned thoughtful. "I don't know what I possibly did to deserve this."

She frowned causing him to do the same. Reaching out, she touched his face as if she could smooth the expression away. "It's not about deserve, you know."

"I—" He bit his lip. His features were soft but his eyes were far away. "I want to be worthy of this." He cleared his throat before kissing her gently. "Until tomorrow…Chloe."

Before he could walk away, she pulled him back to make sure he'd understood. "Lucifer, what I'm trying to say is that I love you."

* * *

Linda had arrived at her office early Tuesday morning before her appointment with Lucifer. Based on their last two, at his place, she was concerned. He was struggling. She filled the water pitcher and left it on the table with a tumbler. She well knew having something to fidget with helped him talk. She was thinking of putting out a bowl of candy as well when the door opened without a knock.

He was disheveled, his hair loose and his suit wrinkled, almost as if…

"Have you slept?"

He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. "Ah, no, doctor. I…went walking. I had a lot to think about." He paused his pacing to play with his cufflink.

Linda gestured to her couch and waited until he folded himself down onto it. "Such as?"

He made an open gesture with his hands but she wasn't fooled for a moment. "Desserts? What my Father might have in store? What _I_ would have in store. Really just what is to be expected."

"Did something happen with Chloe?"

Pausing before he answered, he looked toward the window. "Just the opposite, actually."

When he didn't elaborate, she prompted: "Alright, how are things going with Chloe?"

He leaned back on her couch, draping his long arms across the back in an affectation of ease. He gave her a salacious grin. "Oooooh, doctor, you naughty little voyeur. If you want details, I think I'd better check in with her first."

"Lucifer, you know I'm not talking about your sex life."

He twitched but maintained his casual posture. "To answer your question: Good. 'Things' with the Detective and I…Chloe and I…are good."

He was holding back, that much was clear.

"But?"

His arms slid from the back of the couch.

"I-I _killed_ Cain. There _has_ to be some kind of punishment. It's what I deserve. Instead, Chloe…Chloe, she…how is that right?"

"Lucifer, it's common for people who have to make hard choices to feel guilt, to doubt what they had to do."

"You don't understand, doctor. I didn't just 'do what was necessary.' I took _pleasure_ in it. I did it even though…even though…"

He seemed to be having trouble continuing. "Lucifer?"

"I'm fairly certain I could've taken down that Cro-Magnon Cain without killing him. I could've. I could've, and I didn't."

"It's easy to second guess life-and-death decisions after the fact. But it's important to be fair to yourself when you do."

"I-I don't want to lie to the Detective. But I'm keeping this from her, aren't I? Even after she's _seen_ she hasn't seen, not really."

She expelled out a measured breath. "Motivations…can be complicated. It's possible to do something…difficult…for the right reasons, and still _feel_ things that seem wrong. That can be hard to reconcile; it's natural to have complex emotions about the situation you were in." She considered him. He nodded along with her words, but more like someone waiting for his turn in the conversation than someone truly listening. "If anyone can understand having to make a difficult decision in the line of duty, it's Chloe."

"It's not right for me to be…and what will happen when the chickens come home to roost? How am I better than Cain? Courting her when he knew he planned to die. There have to be consequences…"

"You don't have to be defined by a single difficult choice." A moment too late, Linda realized the irony of telling him, of all beings, that. She held up her hand to stop the comment she could see forming on his tongue. She was worried. She wasn't reaching him. "Think about it. Talk to Chloe?"

Lucifer stood abruptly. "You're right. She does need to understand."

Linda watched him head to the door with a familiar sinking feeling.

* * *

Once parole officer Romano finished signing the evidence over to Ella, Chloe thanked him and let him out of the evidence lab.

Ella opened her mouth, but, before she could comment, the door swung back open, admitting Lucifer, who was speaking before either could greet him.

"My, my, looks like you two have been busy. That's quite the stash." He tilted his head to the gun and other evidence bagged on the table. "And who was that man in the _very_ cheap suit you were talking to? A little bedraggled for the usual LAPD lot, don't you think?"

Chloe caught the manic vibe radiating from him. Something was bothering him. She knew he'd had a session with Linda that morning.

"That was Nick Romano, Peter Wiśniewski's parole officer. When he failed to report for our interview, Romano had a BOLO put out. He got stopped near the Nevada border, and apparently this—"she gestured to the evidence "—was seized in his car."

Ella nudged the bag containing a Glock 22. "Could be the weapon that killed Aaron based on the caliber. We'll run ballistics and see if that comes back consistent."

Chloe tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear. "I'm surprised. With Aaron disappearing at the port, Peter was looking less and less likely as a suspect."

Lucifer picked up a different bag. "Ooooh. Molly. Nice. And enough for a party." Lucifer caught sight of another bag. "Oh, hello. Credit card belonging to dear cousin Aaron?"

"Yeah." Ella shook her head sadly. "Such a shame. I want to see people be able to turn things around. My brothers, yeah." Ella shook her head. "I believe in second chances. But some people. Man. Sometimes you just have a bad seed."

Lucifer frowned and his eyes went hard. "Indeed, Ms. Lopez." He crumpled the plastic bag in his hand. Chloe took it from him before he could break the card, smoothed out the plastic, and put it back on the table.

"One way to find out. We have him in the interrogation room."

"Do we now?" He sounded _entirely_ too excited about the prospect. "Shall we put the screws to our ruthless recidivist, then?"

A flicker of doubt ran up Chloe's spine. Something was off about him, and when Lucifer took a case too personally the results were usually not good. "Lucifer, we don't know he's the killer."

"Don't we?"

He pushed past her on the way to interrogation. She caught the flicker of flame in his eyes and wondered if he was aware. She'd thought he'd been doing better, but if his control was that frayed this interrogation suddenly seemed like a terrible idea.

The doors flew open under his touch even though she knew they would've been locked. The bang of the door brought their suspect's head up from where it rested on the table. His sandy hair was a mess and he looked tired.

She scrambled in after Lucifer. She knew she should start the camera to record the interrogation but that niggling doubt came back and she…didn't. She pictured Lieutenant Robinson's scolding face and the trouble she could—should—get in, but… She closed the doors.

Lucifer perched on the edge of the table, inches from Peter.

"Hello, murderer."

"What the fuck! I haven't done anything."

"Really? You were an innocent man? Rotting away all those years even thought you were pure as the driven snow, am I getting it right?"

"This is bullshit. I get you have the right to drag me in here and harass me just because I'm a con."

"Mr. Wiśniewski," Chloe said, redirecting his focus. "You've violated your parole at least half a dozen ways. Failure to report, leaving LA without permission, felon in possession of a firearm, the drugs. It would be in your interest to cooperate."

"Why?" He crossed his arms. "You're just going to railroad me whatever I do."

"Why were you leaving California?"

He leaned back and grinned. "Oh, I don't know? Got tired of the sunshine?"

Lucifer twitched, and Chloe saw his grip tighten dangerously on the table. "Answer her!" he thundered.

Peter paled and swallowed. "My PO told me to report to this precinct for questioning. I-I can't go to back to prison. It was just a little drugs."

"Is that why you killed your cousin? Robbed him for drug money, was it?"

"Aaron's dead?"

Lucifer scoffed. "Oh, Pete-y, you can do better than that."

"N-No. Aaron was helping me."

"And that's how you repaid him?" Lucifer's lip curled in disgust. "Once a murderer, always a murderer."

"No. He was helping me get back on my feet. Got me my apartment. Gave me one of his credit cards to use for emergencies."

"Out of the goodness of his heart? Why would he help _you_?" Lucifer said it as if Peter was something scraped off the bottom of his shoe.

Thrusting his thin forward in challenge, Peter said, "He owed me."

"Why?" Chloe broke in.

He shrugged and didn't answer.

In a flash, Lucifer's hand shot out and caught his chin, forcing him to look at him. "I told you to answer her." The words were nearly hissed out.

Peter jerked and then shuddered, unable to free himself from Lucifer's grip. He shook his head—as if trying to clear his vision; as if he'd seen _something_ in Lucifer's eyes. Peter's eyes flicked to Chloe, looking for help. She should tell Lucifer to stop, and yet…

"Why?" she asked.

His breaths were coming fast and he focused on Chloe despite Lucifer's fingers digging into his flesh. "The robbery I served time for…the one where the woman was killed. He was there. Aaron was. He was there with me, and I didn't tell. I kept it a secret."

Lucifer's grip didn't loosen. He was going to leave bruises. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, urging him to let go.

He bristled and shook off her restraining hand, turning eyes that were flaring red on her. He dragged Peter from his chair. His hand moved from Peter's chin to his throat as raised him up and pinned him against the wall.

"Enough, Lucifer!"

He ignored her. "Tell me, were you angry that your cousin got off scot-free while you spent the best years of your life in a prison? Did you _desire_ vengeance?"

Peter squirmed, feet scrabbling for purchase. "I just wanted my life back! I didn't kill Aaron. That was in the past!"

Whether he lost control of his face or he did it intentionally, she wasn't sure. But in the next moment Peter was screaming. And yet Lucifer still did not let him go.

Chloe grabbed Lucifer's arm to try to shake him off, but he was as immovable as a steel rail. Nonetheless, she tried and shouted his name. Finally, he turned toward it. She'd seen this face many times now, but this time there was rage behind those glowing eyes.

"Lucifer, think about it! Aaron disappeared at the port. That's a controlled environment." There was a banging on the interrogation room door. Someone had heard Aaron's screaming. "Lucifer, get a grip. Someone's going to see. Please. For me."

His face flickered and he let go of Peter, who slumped sobbing on the ground. Chloe could hear the door being unlocked and held her breath as Lucifer's more familiar features reasserted themselves.

The door swing open revealing Detective Mulvaney, Dan's partner. "Heard…something. Just checking if everything's alright." His eyes darted to the whimpering suspect and then to the camera that wasn't recording. "Looks like it is."

Chloe took a deep breath. "Detective, could you do us a favor and take the suspect back to holding?" She thought he'd refuse, but he hauled Peter up with an amused smirk.

When Mulvaney had left, Chloe grabbed Lucifer's arm and pulled him to the far side of the room. He shot an offended look at her hand where it twisted the fabric of his suit.

"Lucifer," she hissed. "What's wrong with you? You can't treat a suspect like that. This isn't like you—"

"Is that so?" He cut her off with a harsh slash of his hand. "You're so sure you know about what's 'like me'? Do I always have to be on my best behavior around you?" His voice was rising.

She pulled back from him, her face paling.

"Lucifer, what are you talking about?"

He waved his hand at her in a dismissive gesture. She reached out and snatched his wrist, holding it until he focused on her.

"If this is about Pierce…Cain—"

"This is about a murderer who hasn't been punished." His anger was still simmering, and something else, something dark, roiled under the surface.

"Fine. Don't do it because it's the right thing. Do it because _I_ don't want to be disciplined by Lieutenant Robinson. He's just waiting for an opportunity to take me down a peg."

He looked ever so slightly penitent, and she decided to take that as a victory.

She turned abruptly and left him in the interrogation room, needing time to cool off.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunday update! As always, more gratitude than I can express to ObliObla for her tireless beta work and cheerleading. And my grateful thanks to Matchstick_Dolly for giving me a second gut-check (and typo correct). I appreciate the support in trying to get this one just right. Please enjoy!

Chloe had told Lucifer he shouldn’t come in—that the day would be nothing but paperwork. It was sort of true. Having received no response from Losopa—not even a lawyer telling her to shove it—she got to work writing up a declaration in support of a warrant. In reality, it was thin, but she did her best to emphasize the connections before passing it to the Deputy District Attorney recently assigned to them. Nick was a young kid—maybe in his late twenties—with his hair parted a little too neatly, screaming wet-behind-the-ears. Chloe pressed him until he promised to get the request before a judge as soon as possible. She missed Charlotte and her frank assessments of their odds of getting a judge to issue the warrant.

A little before noon, her phone dinged. To her surprise, it was Linda texting. _Interested in grabbing a drink tonight?_

Chloe was surprised. Linda was tribe, but they rarely grabbed a drink alone. Might be nice to talk to some else in the _know_ , though. She shot a text to Trixie’s babysitter to see if she could cover a couple extra hours. When she got an assent, she sent to Linda: _Sounds good. Bamboo Room at 7 ok?_ she asked, naming a tiki bar they’d been to on a Tribe night. The phone dinged again with the response, _Perfect_.

After a vending-machine lunch—Lucifer not being there to give her shit about it, she documented the interviews conducted so far. Unless the ballistics on Peter’s gun surprised her, they were running out of leads except the warehouse where Aaron had last been seen. She glanced at the lieutenant’s office. He hadn’t called her into his office or come out to read her the riot act. Perhaps yesterday’s mess had passed unnoticed. Peter was in a world of trouble, either way. It was unfortunate. She couldn’t get over the feeling that it had been her investigation that would send him back to prison. Even if they were his own choices.

Ella settled on the edge of her desk, a file in her hand. “No Lucifer today?”

“Ah…you know how he feels about paperwork.”

Ella gave her a dubious look. “If you need somebody to talk to…I promise I won’t run away with myself this time.”

Chloe’s head snapped up.

“Girl, come on. I know you. I know him.”

Chloe sighed and put her face in her hands. “Is it that obvious?”

Ella shrugged. “Probably not to _everybody_.”

“Ugh.” A thought occurred to Chloe. “Do you think Dan’s noticed?” He hadn’t been in the precinct much the last few days as he worked a robbery-homicide at a bodega that had left three dead. It was the kind of case Chloe never received despite that cases, strictly speaking, were supposed to be assigned on a pure rotation. She’d never learned who to thank for that.

Ella shrugged. “Dan notices stuff.”

She probably should talk to Dan before Trixie said something. As if things weren’t complicated enough. “What do you have there?” She nodded at the folder in Ella’s hands.

“Got the ballistics report back on Peter Wiśniewski’s gun.”

“How on earth did you have that done so fast?”

She bobbed her head, dark ponytail bouncing. “I have my ways.” Ella opened the folder and held up the report like Trixie holding up homework she was proud of. “It’s not even close to consistent with the bullet that killed Aaron. You know this analysis isn’t certain, but this is as about as conclusive as it can be that it’s not the murder weapon.”

“I’m not surprised,” Chloe said. “He didn’t feel right for this.” Her mind flashed to Peter’s blotchy face as Mulvaney stood him up, snot bubbling out of his nose as he gasped for breath. “I’ll call Romano and let him know it’s just the parole violations.” She hated that she felt relief at the realization that she could have him transferred from holding to the Metropolitan Detention Center.

It was well into the afternoon when she got a text from Lucifer.

 _How goes the paperwork?_ 📄😴

She typed, ‘still at it,’ but then deleted the message. _Almost done_ , she sent. Then: _Ballistics back. No match for Peter._

She saw three bubbles appear as he typed and then disappear without a message appearing. She sighed. _Thinking of visiting Losopa’s main office._

He sent a string of emojis asking if he should join her, 😈🚘👉❓

She considered. Yesterday, she’d sent him home to cool off after they’d had words. _I’ll pick you up in 30_.

* * *

Dan had been out drinking with his partner several nights at Rodriguez’s suggestion. On the one hand, Dan would never have chosen the man as a drinking buddy. On the other hand, stumbling to bed drunk had been on his agenda anyway. He chortled to himself. Getting wasted was his job. Sort of. And, to his surprise, after a few beers Mulvaney was tolerable enough. Dan made sure to play along and bitch about a cop’s salary and child support and the cost of living in L.A.

That afternoon, after wrapping up some interviews at the victim’s home, he followed Mulvaney to his car. He assumed they would be headed to the bar again. But Mulvaney took a left at Vincent. The Paddock was in the opposite direction.

“What’s up, partner?”

He gave him a smirk. “You wanted in, right?”

“Yeah, man. I was just expecting some notice.” Dan fidgeted. His phone had been recording since before he got in the car, but he itched to text Rodriguez. Let him know something was happening in case it went badly. But he couldn’t think of any way to do it. He smoothed his hand on his thigh to keep his fingers from twitching toward his phone.

“Doesn’t work like that.”

“So how’s it going to work? Am I going to meet the boss?”

The smirk widened into a grin. “You’ll just have to wait and see, boyo.”

The car rolled along on side streets into a dicier and dicier part of town. Mulvaney pulled into the parking lot of a small, rundown park. At this hour, it was deserted. Trying to keep his nerves in check, Dan nodded along to his partner shooting the shit about the Angels’ pitching lineup while they waited.

A Dodge Durango with tinted windows pulled up next to them.

“Listen, Espinoza, this is a good gig, especially for detectives like us. We aren’t the muscle. Just a few favors here and there. Ya just gotta show you got skin in the game first. No changing your mind once we get in that car.”

Dan nodded. “I’m not changing my mind. I want in.”

“Yeah, I knew you would. Come on.”

The SUV was moving almost as soon as Dan and Mulvaney jumped in the back. The driver paid Dan no mind, but another man in the back greeted Dan as “new guy” and a third simply grunted. No one gave their names, but Dan had no doubt they were all cops.

One of the cops—Mustache, Dan decided to call him—briefed him quickly, uttering a harsh “don’t need to know” every time Dan tried to interject a question. The gist was they were hijacking an already-stolen shipment of electronics as it was delivered to a vacant house being used as a way station. Apparently, the other man in the back—Scowl, Dan dubbed him—had gotten this tip.

There’d be two men in the van and one watching the house. They’d follow behind the van into the alley and wait until the men were occupied unloading. The tall fences would give them the element of surprise. They’d drive in fast and overwhelm the thieves.

None of the men in the SUV, not even Mulvaney, were interested in Dan’s doubts, so he kept them to himself. He’d run through any number of scenarios with Rodriguez, but they hadn’t discussed anything as violent as rolling a criminal crew in an armed robbery. Dan had no idea what these men would do if he tried to back out now. It seemed to him the only way through was, well, to see this through.

Soon enough, they were parked on a side street waiting to sight the van. Dan’s heart was racing already. This was stupid. Really stupid. So stupid.

A beat-up van rolled past them, turning into the alley.

Mustache thrust a bat into his hands. “Just keep any of them from running off, new guy. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

Scowl smirked. It all reminded Dan a bit of the hazing all new officers endured.

The driver—Driver—started the electric engine, virtually soundless, and rolled into the alley with the lights off. Once they reached the end of the fence, Scowl-Smirk eased out of the door to scout around.

Dan clutched at the bat to keep his hands steady while his pulse thundered in his ears. What should he do? What _could_ he do? He stumbled onto a thought that calmed him: Charlotte had taken risks to find her redemption, too.

He very nearly jumped out of his skin when Scowl-Smirk slipped back inside.

“All three are unloading,” he breathed.

Mulvaney tossed Dan a ski mask with a wink as Driver put the car in gear.

After that, things moved fast.

Driver gunned the SUV into the yard, nearly running down one of the men, and the crew was spilling out before he fully stopped. By the time Dan jumped to the pavement, Mustache had a knee in the back of one of the men, Driver and Scowl-Smirk were restraining a second, and the third had his hands up in the face of Mulvaney’s gun.

Dan watched the cops zip-tie their prisoners’ hands with practiced ease before dragging them into the garage to secure them to a post. Holy shit. This might turn out okay. He wasn’t sure if they were going to steal the van or load up the SUV…

Something caught Dan’s attention. A soft, sharp sound. A door opening. Then a flash of motion. A fourth man leaping out of the van, a semi-automatic Luger pistol in hand.

Dan was moving before he could process everything that was happening. He dashed from behind toward the man as the gun rose up toward Mulvaney’s back. He caught Mulvaney’s shocked expression flash into fear as he turned and saw the gun.

Then he was barreling into the gunman and they were both crashing to the ground. Dan felt the sting of the concrete on his knuckles, his knee through torn jean, his shoulder. And before they’d even skidded to a halt, they were scrabbling. Dan’s hand twisted in the other’s leather jacket as he tried to restrain the hand grabbing at his jaw.

The man bucked, almost throwing Dan, and they rolled again. He caught a punch in the side, losing his breath, but held on. This time, he tried to leverage his weight and pin him. He hung on when the man tried to throw him again, managing to land a solid punch to the jaw.

His antagonist went limp.

It must have all happened faster than Dan realized, because, when he looked up, the others were only just running over. Mulvaney gave the unconscious man a vicious kick to the side.

“Fuck, Es-new guy. You are a scrapper.”

Dan felt a moment of panic when he saw blood where his punch had caused his assailant’s head to smack the concrete. But he seemed to be breathing normally, so there was that.

Mustache gestured at Scowl. “Help me get this loaded.” He sounded keyed up.

Mulvaney stood, still frozen. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

 _Exactly_ , Dan thought.

Driver took Mulvaney’s gun from his trembling hands and pointed it at the unconscious man, gesturing for Dan to get off.

“Fucking punk. Think you can go with us?” he railed at the unconscious man, high on the ebbing adrenaline. “I should fucking kill you.” He pressed the gun up against the man's temple. “Think you can play…shit.” The safety clicked off.

And Dan realized he might actually do it.

“Wait!” Dan yelped.

Driver gave him a look, but the gun drifted away from its target. “We got a problem, new guy?”

Panic swamped Dan. A thought flittered through his mind about whether too much stress could actually burst his heart. “No! Yes! My DNA’s all over him.”

Driver sat back on his heels. “Good point, new guy.” He gestured vaguely at Dan with the gun. “Good point.”

Dan flinched, but Driver paid him no mind.

Mustache was back. “Put him in the garage with the others,” he told Dan, handing him a zip-tie. “And close the door. We’re getting out of here.”

The crew was more relaxed, almost buoyant, as they took a circuitous route back to the park where they’d left Mulvaney’s car.

As the SUV rolled toward the park, Mustache stuck out his hand for Dan to shake. “Espinoza, you’re solid. Sam Brown, Southeast precinct.”

Dan shook his hand.

Scowl actually smiled. “Frank Alcala.”

Dan glanced at Driver. He grunted.

“Come on, Fitzy, we’re all friends now,” Mulvaney said.

“Yeah, yeah. James Fitzpatrick, but people call me Fitzy.”

Dan climbed into Mulvaney’s car. The adrenaline was still running hot in his veins, but he was feeling pleased with his choices. And more optimistic than he had in days.

* * *

Lucifer and Chloe pulled up in front of Losopa Corp.’s office in Long Beach. Their headquarters, per their corporate registration. It wasn’t much to look at. Just another small warehouse with an office in the front. However, it was located behind a chain-link fence. Chloe buzzed the intercom. Nothing, and no lights in the office. But Lucifer pointed out fresh tire tracks in the dust.

“A larger vehicle.” Chloe judged the angle where the the front and rear tires separated at the base of the drive. “Looks like it was pulling in, not out.”

“That’s not really how the rhythm method works.”

It was a half-hearted joke, at best, but Chloe was glad for it. She gave him an exaggerated eye roll. “You up for a bit of a stakeout? I’m still hoping we’ll hear from the judge on the warrant for the warehouse at the port, and I’d rather not drive all the way back to the precinct. Might as well wait here.”

“As you desire, Detective.”

She eyed him but said nothing. Instead, she pulled her car along the curb across the street, a little down the block.

Lucifer glanced at the office. “So they refused to return your calls? Not suspicious at all.”

“Yeah. I’m this close to putting a uni on this property to let us know when they are in. Oh, and siccing Officer James on the warehouse at the port.”

“Oh, the horror.” He took his turn rolling his eyes.

After that, they watched the office in uncharacteristic quiet. Chloe couldn’t quite find the words to break the silence, and Lucifer fidgeted beside her.

He spoke just when she thought he couldn’t get anymore antsy. “Whoever killed our cuckolded dock worker remains at large, and yet here we sit.”

“Cuckolded. Since when are you concerned about…?”

That brought him up short. “I’m not, particularly, but there’s a killer who needs punishing. Besides, you know how I feel about liars.” He was simmering as he gazed out the window. “And, well, I’ve been thinking about how I would feel if…”

He didn’t finish, but nonetheless Chloe stared at the side of his face. That was a shocking development. She was just about to reach out to touch his knee when her phone rang.

“Decker,” she answered. It was Nick, the Deputy District Attorney, letting her know the judge had denied their warrant request. Insufficient probable cause. She was disappointed but not entirely surprised. “Thanks for letting me know.”

Lucifer glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.

“Judge denied our search warrant for their warehouse,” she explained.

“Enough of this. Pitiful Aaron was abducted in their warehouse, and they’re avoiding us. Clearly, they’re hiding something.”

And with that he was moving, striding from the car to the fence with an implacable gait. Not bothering with his unlocking trick, he grabbed the chain binding the fence and pulled it away as if it was made of paper. He stalked inside with a determination Chloe doubted would be stopped: An inexorable force.

She watched without moving. Not because she didn’t know he was capable of aggressive bursts of actions. But because it brought home just how much he typically restrained himself. Did, in fact, play by her rules. It caught her breath.

Shaking herself from her reverie, she followed. They were well and truly fucked if there was any real evidence inside, whether she followed or not. And she couldn’t leave him to it alone. So she checked her weapon and went after him.

She saw him throw the roller door up by hand as if it weighed nothing. The heavy lock that had secured it skidded down the concrete ramp to her feet.

The warehouse was most definitely _not_ empty. Four men jumped up as the door rose. Chloe saw the nearest was armed, but they apparently did not think they needed weapons to deal with one Lucifer. Probably didn’t want the attention gunshots would bring.

Chloe was only a few steps behind, but it was all happening before she could react. She watched, stunned.

One of the men lunged at Lucifer, but he brushed away the swing with the care he might’ve given a gnat before thrusting a palm at his chest, causing the man to leave the ground before hitting a concrete pillar and slumping to the ground. The absolute economy of movement was as captivating as it was disturbing.

A second man tried a more measured approach, raising his hands and falling into a boxing stance, bobbing as he closed in. Lucifer spun around him before the man could take a swing, catching his jacket in both hands, lifting him up, and tossing him toward the first downed men. They crashed together, and he did not get up. It was violent—abhorrent—but it was also shockingly beautiful in its efficiency.

The third man charged, attempting a tackle. But Lucifer was an immovable force as he crashed into his waist. This assailant barely had a moment to look shocked at the apparent suspension of physics before he was flying toward the other two men. He landed with a groan and then was still.

Alone, the fourth man reached for his gun. But Lucifer…he simply took it away from him and flipped it aside, before lifting him by the chin and pinning him against another pillar.

“So, criminal, tell me about your little operation and how it got a longshoreman killed.”

The man’s legs flailed. “I don’t know anything about any longshoreman. We’re just waiting for a shipment of goods. To pack for delivery. Nothing illegal!” His voice rose at the end as Lucifer’s hand slipped closer to his throat.

“Do. Not. Lie. To. Me.”

The suspended man shrieked and twisted in his grasp. Chloe had no doubt Lucifer’s eyes had flashed, if not more.

“Okay! Okay! They’re stolen goods! We’re waiting for stolen goods. But I still don’t know about your longshoreman.”

Lucifer’s growl was a low, inhuman rumble that drew out a shriek. “At your warehouse. On the port. Last Monday. Do I really need to be more specific?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know. The last time we were there was Saturday before that.” The man was crying now. “I would tell you. I would tell. I swear I would.”

The man’s gibbering broke Chloe out of her spell. She closed the gap and laid her hand on his arm. “Enough. He’s told us what he knows.”

He turned to her, none of his usual warmth showing in his eyes. When he registered her, his expression changed, but there was no apology in his gaze. He pitched the man toward the others unconscious on the floor without even glancing at him. Chloe watched him pull himself into a ball, trying to hide himself.

Chloe’s eyes snapped back to Lucifer in shock. How had things gotten so out of control, so fast?

“Lucifer…you, you _can’t_ —this isn’t…you can’t do things like that!”

“Why ever not, Detective? We know more than we did.” His voice was flat.

“Are you deliberately trying to rub your-your…your _devilness_ in my face?”

His expression darkened, mouth opening and closing. “You either can deal or you cannot, Detective.”

“So, what, you are going to try to see if you can push me away?”

Instead of answering, he leaned close and said, “Doesn’t look like I’m pushing you away, though, does it? You think I can’t tell you liked what you saw? I know your body well enough by now.”

She slapped him. Her hand shooting out before she’d even fully processed his words, but she couldn’t deny his accusation, her cheeks flaming. He grinned. She turned her back on him and stomped a couple steps away, so angry the edges of her vision were blurring. Her heart was a wild beast trying to escape her chest. She thought about getting in her car and leaving him there. But she wasn’t sure she could trust him alone with these men. And that was…that was…

She turned back to face him and said with conviction: “This—this isn’t you. We’re—we’re going to have a long talk. But not right now.”

The hard smirk was back on his face, and he opened his mouth to reply.

But she didn’t want to hear what he was going to say—wasn’t sure she could handle it—so she cut him off. “And it’s not just what I can deal with. I have a job I want to keep! Cases I want to see stick. This _nonsense_ with you trying to push my buttons…it threatens that. We can’t _use_ anything he just told you.”

“Oh, is that what you are worried about?” He gave the words a sing-song lilt as if he’d just solved a dilemma. Deliberately misunderstanding. “That’s easily fixed, isn’t it?”

Before she could ask what he meant, Lucifer turned back to the man trying to disappear into himself. He knelt down, managing to look elegant even in a crouch. He caught the man’s chin with two long fingers, pulling his face up until their eyes met.

“You’re going to go to the nearest LAPD precinct and confess everything you know about this place.” He waited for the man to nod. “And you certainly aren’t going to mention anything that happened here this afternoon, are you?” The man shook his head.

Lucifer stood and turned to face her in one smooth motion. He brushed his hands together as if to say, _Well, that’s done_. “There we are, Detective, no problems.”

Chloe was left staring as he strode from through the open entryway. When she finally gathered herself to follow, he was long gone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! First, there was a Sunday update this week, so please make sure you caught that before continuing. It's not a chapter you want to miss! Second, apologies for this chapter being a little late. Hope the Sunday update made up for it. Thanks for reading!

Linda had claimed prime real estate at the bar at the Bamboo Room. When her straw found the bottom of her Blue Hawaiian, she glanced at her phone. It read 7:27 and no texts. It wasn’t at all like Chloe to be late. Linda set her turquoise mug with the carved tiki face on the bar and made eye contact with the bartender.

The burly blond with the rosey cheeks—Jody he’d told her—leaned her way. “What can I get you next?”

“Mmmmm. What do your recommend?”

“The Deep Sea Diver…or maybe the Missionary’s Downfall?”

She blinked, teasing, at his blue eyes. Digging out her deepest, phone-sex voice, she said: “I’ll take the _diver_.” She was pleased to see him swallow before turning away.

Once she had her new drink—a porcelain scowling diver in an old school diving suit—she looked up. There was Chloe at the entrance, searching the bar, so she raised her hand to flag her. Linda had a moment to study her before she caught her attention. Her ponytail was especially messy; her jacket didn’t match her shirt. Chloe’s expression smoothed into recognition as she saw Linda and returned her wave.

“Heeeeyyyy,” Linda greeted. “Have a seat, why don’t you?” She was doubting whether broaching the reason she’d asked Chloe to meet was a good idea. In retrospect, it was hardly shocking that Lucifer wasn’t the best narrator regarding her state of mind.

Chloe snatched up the drink menu, giving it her full attention, before ordering a Painkiller.

Linda waited until she had her drink in hand before asking, “How have you been holding up?”

It didn’t take any deep prodding for Chloe to open up. She bobbed her head from side to side. “I thought I was doing fine, you know? Like, everything seemed fine. Crazy, right? He’s the Devil and everything’s fine? That can’t be right, though, right? Especially when he…” She bit down on her words.

Linda pressed her lips together for a moment. She’d gone through this revelation herself not that long ago. Was still going through it in many ways. And she definitely couldn’t be accused of having a _small_ reaction. Yet she’d found her perspective. Lucifer and Maze and Amenadiel were strange and complicated and flawed in essentially the ways she’d already known. Just with that major asterisk.

“I don’t think you need to be beating yourself up about whether you are having a ‘big enough’ reaction. He really is the same person you’ve always known, at heart. Just with this Big Label and lots and lots and lots of family baggage.”

Chloe chewed her lip. “Is he really, though? The same person I’ve always known, I mean. I think…all this time…he’s been very careful…well, as _he_ can be anyway”—Chloe showed a small rueful smile—“to show me only certain sides of himself. And I don’t mean not showing me his Devil face.”

 _Ah_. Linda gave her a short, sharp nod of understanding. “Sometimes we want to be the best version of ourselves around the people we care about.”

“But that’s just the problem. He’s kept so much from me. Who’s the real Lucifer? The one he’s let me see, or the one he’s been when I’m not looking?”

Linda sighed. “He’s not two people. I don’t think it’s a good idea to think of him that way. All of it is part of him.”

“I feel like he has been…I know he hasn’t _lied_ to me, but, still, it feels like he _has_ been deceiving me. And not about the actual, literal devil stuff, you know?”

Linda paused, skirting her ethical obligations, which were (if she was honest with herself) already a bit tatty when it came to Lucifer. “Look, people come to therapy for a number of reasons. Some come because they are striving to understand who they are and who they can be. A lot of my younger patients,” and she appreciated the irony of that, “find themselves trying on roles. It’s not dishonest; it’s a way of figuring out who they are or who they can be.”

From Chloe’s face when she said the word “roles,” Linda realized that she was only hearing that part, and decided to take a different tack.

“There are also people we meet in our lives who shape who we are and who we become—whether a friend, a teacher or a mentor, a lover, or someone else entirely.”

“So you’re telling me the Devil has been ‘finding himself,’” she said with some scorn, making air quotes.

“I’m telling you it’s complicated.”

Chloe blew a hair out of her face in frustration. She even _looked_ like she was thinking hard. Linda pictured cartoon steam coming out of her ears.

“You’re his therapist. He talked about your sessions sometimes but not really how open he was with you. But he’s Lucifer, so I’m guessing he talked a whole lot.” Chloe looked away frowning. “Shared a whole lot more of himself than he ever did with me, anyway,” she said softly. Then Chloe’s head snapped back toward Linda, her voice rising: “So don’t tell me ‘he’s the same person I’ve always known’ like I’m not allowed to—” Linda saw Chloe’s jaw practically snap closed on her words.

Linda was taken aback. That certainly hadn’t been her intention, at all. And, she supposed, Chloe had something of a point.

“You’re allowed to feel however you feel. You are allowed to get angry.”

“Then why aren’t I? Angry at him, I mean. I get what you are saying about him, but I _feel_ like I should be angry. More angry. So why aren’t I?”

That last bit was almost pleading. Linda was puzzled; she really didn’t understand what was bothering Chloe. As much as she didn’t want to play therapist for her friend, she reverted to questioning mode: “Do you want to be?”

Chloe huffed out a huge breath, and then jumped down from her stool. “I have to get going. Trixie’s sitter, you know.” She left a half drunk Painkiller on the bar.

Linda watched as Chloe hurried away. She shook her head, exasperated. She wasn’t sure if it was wise to intercede on Maze’s behalf at all, but tonight had in no way been the night to do it.

* * *

Lucifer’s hand shook as he poured a whiskey. Annoyed, he tightened his grip on the decanter until the shaking stopped. He shouldn’t be upset. The Detective deserved to know the truth—all of it—and he’d wanted to show her. He was the Devil, after all.

He’d screwed up not making sure she’d understood that. He’d been so happy that she’d still wanted him after she’d seen his other face, after she’d seen all of him. Her words _not to me_ fresh in his ears. If she still felt that way, he’d hoped, maybe he wasn’t a monster after all. Maybe he hadn’t really confirmed everything his family already thought with a hell-forged blade sunk into the heart of a former immortal. So that selfish and naive part of him thought he could play human, have a _girlfriend_ , of all things. His heart did a recently-familiar little flip in his chest. Why did he have to want it so much, when it was so wrong?

He found himself on his balcony, looking up. The stars were almost entirely obscured by the city lights and the occasional wispy clouds reflecting those lights back down. The moon, a little above the horizon, casting it’s own obscuring light. Still, he focused past all that. Raising his glass.

“Was this your plan, then?” He bit the words heavenward. “Let me think things could be different and then show me where I belong?” He aimed his spite upward before he downed his glass. “Am I supposed to scurry back now? Know my place? Well, guess what? I won’t go back. Not for you.” He considered his empty glass before saying, softer, “Not even for her.”

Leaned against the railing, he lost himself in thought, turning those words over in his head. When he looked back up, his mind was set. “I said I was done, and I’m done. You can make me suffer, but you don’t get to win. I will not go back.” He raised his face, daring his Father to act. To strike him down. Like he’d feared for days and weeks and maybe even years when he’d first cut off his wings. There was no response. “No, of course not.”

He turned back to the warm glow of his penthouse.

She was such a _good_ person. And it made him want…want that, too. It was why he tried to keep himself in check around her most the time. She was his barometer, as often as not, and he appreciated her for it. He’d honestly believed that maybe he could be good as well. Hadn’t even realized how much he wanted it until Cain, of all knobheads, had pointed it out. But it had been true—he’d realized it as he watched Cain’s hulking form retreat at the precinct, as he commiserated with Ella on his balcony, as he’d said it to _her_ just before they’d fallen into Cain’s trap. Too bad he’d failed so spectacularly only short minutes later. Demonstrated so thoroughly that he was not _good_. But maybe better, too. Better to taste the truth, even if it was a bitter cup, then to lie to himself.

Better than to drag her down with him.

She was supposed to be shocked, maybe even horrified. But she hadn’t been—not entirely. Not even today when he’d been hell-bent on _showing_ her. The thought that he could be pulling her down with him was a stone that had settled in his stomach. That would be monstrous, indeed.

No, better to make sure she saw that it wasn’t just a _face_. Why had he let himself believe anything else, especially after…? He hadn’t wanted to hurt her more than he was always going to. But now it seemed he’d managed it. He only hoped the harm wasn’t irreversible.

He turned back the darkening sky one last time. “And I get the rap for being the torturer,” he muttered.

* * *

Chloe’d only been in for an hour when Lieutenant Robinson called her into his office. This could be about so many different things. She’d learned well enough the danger of jumping to conclusions with Pierce…Cain. So she schooled her face to a neutral expression and waited for Robinson to speak.

He looked bored, tapping a pen on a file. “You were the one who put the request for a warrant in for Losopa Corp.? Related to your longshoreman case? Not enough probable cause?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Chloe cleared her throat when her voice came out raspy.

“Looks like you caught a lucky break.” His gaze told her he thought she needed it. Still, that was a better outcome than most given all that had occurred this week. “The harbor area precinct has some suspect in custody singing a song about that company. Thank our deputy district attorney for making the connection. Give a call to Detective Housin in Robbery. He can get you the details. Should get your warrant approved now.”

Chloe gave a nod, keeping her relief inside. “Thank you, sir. Lucky break.”

Detective Housin was ecstatic about the collar that had landed in his lap. Chloe felt a low, churning guilt as he went on and on about his luck. But she jotted down the details from his report for a new warrant application. She worked with Nick, the deputy district attorney who had earned her thanks, to get the new application for a warrant for the Losopa warehouse at the port finalized.

It was early afternoon, and she’d neither seen nor heard anything from Lucifer. She hadn’t reached out, either. She’d been far too torn. But she couldn’t focus on anything else, either.

She ended up clocking out early. Letting things fester between them wasn’t going to do any good. Best to confront things now. She thought she understood. She hoped she did. That she wasn’t just suffering from God-given rose-colored glasses. She drove to his place.

* * *

Mulvaney drove Dan to a bar in Angelino Heights. It wasn’t a cop bar but it very well could be. The decor was mostly right. All it needed was the wall of seals and crests. Mulvaney nodded to a booth toward the back. It was quiet at two in the afternoon. Other than a man hunched over the bar, the person waiting in the booth was the only other patron.

Dan slid into the inside of the booth at Mulvaney’s direction, and his larger partner slid in next to him. Dan wasn’t prone to feeling claustrophobic, but the feeling suddenly overwhelmed him. He reminded himself he would have no reason to appear nervous in any way other than an eagerness to impress, so he plastered on a smile and took in the man across from him.

He was vaguely familiar. Gray or Grieves. Something like that. He was or had been a sergeant at Hollenbeck. It’d been years. Graves, that was it.

Dan took the initiative. “It’s good to finally meet you. My partner’s been singing your praises, and I definitely want to learn more.”

The man laughed. “Slow down, Espinoza. You don’t have to sell me. All I’ve been hearing from Mulvaney is how badass you are. The rest of the team were pretty impressed, too.”

Dan huffed out a laugh. “Well, you all did throw me into the fire there.”

Graves shrugged. “Have to know who will step up and who will balk. And, well, I think we’re under the radar for now, but we do have to look out for IA. You’re not IA are you, Espinoza?”

It was a joke but not a joke. Graves gave Dan the impression of a man very good at reading people.

Dan played it off with a laugh and muttered, “On an IA list, maybe.” He paused, suddenly worried he’d blown it. “That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”

Both of the other men in the booth laughed at that. It was Mulvaney who answered. “You think we’d be sitting here, Espinoza?”

“We did our research on you. We know what we’re getting. I only have a few questions.”

Dan nodded for him to go ahead.

“You turned yourself in for stealing evidence. Why?”

“My partner, he had a psychotic break. The situation got completely out control, and he drew my ex into it. We were still married then. I was hoping to salvage things. It seemed like the only way out.”

“So no pangs of conscience?”

That was too close to the truth, so he bluffed. “If that was my concern, I’d’ve told her the truth much sooner.”

Mulvaney snorted. “Left his ex out to dry for _months_.”

Dan didn’t say anything else, waiting for Graves to continue. Shit, this was dragging up so much of the bad-old. Had he really thought he’d put all this in the past? Just because he’d gotten off shockingly easy. Just because Chloe was so forgiving. She was, quite simply, the best person he knew.

Graves seemed to echo his thought. “How’d you get off with a slap on the wrist?”

Somehow Dan hadn’t really thought about that much before; he’d just been relieved and tried to move on. “I was demoted, pay cut, reduction in duties, so that’s not nothing. But, yeah, I think someone pulled some strings for me.”

“It’s good to have friends, but I’m hoping your friends will be our friends. Who would do that?”

“Someone with an overly developed sense of tit-for-tat. Maybe someone who just didn’t want to feel he owed me anything. No one it’s worth getting tied up with, believe me.”

Graves raised an eyebrow at his vagueness. “We’ll see. Speaking of connections, I understand you have one with our Russian friends?” he asked.

Dan felt his first real panic. He knew this was a possibility, even a likelihood. No way to stop his phone from recording for this part, though.

“A connection through a connection.” That was true, too. Maze.

“I’m interested in hearing more about that later. But I want to know what’s different now. How do we know you won’t sell us out if things go sideways, if things get ‘completely out of control’?”

Improv had taught him sometimes all you had to do was say _something_. “Promise me you won’t go insane and start staging occult-themed serial murders, and I think we’re good. As for my ex,” he added, “that’s the past. I’m the one who asked for the divorce in the end.” That much was true, even if he’d never wanted the separation.

Dan held his breath until Graves started laughing.

“Fair enough. Fair enough. I like you, Espinoza. Listen, we’ve got a job for you. Mulvaney will tell you what we need.” Graves slid out of the booth. “We’ll be in touch. Have a good afternoon. Drinks are on me.”

Once Graves had left the bar, Mulvaney slid over to the side where he’d been sitting. “I think he liked you, partner.”

“So was that, like, a screening interview?”

“Something like. The boss has the final say, though.”

“So when do I get to meet him?”

Mulvaney laughed. “Patience, grasshopper, patience.” He waved the bartender over, ordering another round. “So, Espinoza, want to hear about the job for you?”

“All ears.”

“Seems one of your colleagues has picked up some evidence that’s concerning. Boss would like you to…retrieve it.”

“Which colleague?”

“Detective Decker and her consultant. See, you’ll be perfect.”

 _Fuck_. Nothing easy. Dan did his best to appear nonchalant. “What do I need to do?”

“We just need you to…procure the evidence. A pocket knife.”

“I think I can do that. Let me check out where they have it.”

Mulvaney shrugged. “You better be able to figure out a way.”

“I will, I will. I’ll hang around the precinct tomorrow to handle our ‘paperwork.’ You’ll cover our witness interviews?” Dan did not want him around.

“And I get out of the paperwork? Sure thing, partner.”

“Then I can meet the boss?”

Mulvaney frowned at him. “Why so eager, Espinoza? You trying to run something?”

Dan gave Mulvaney his best ‘whatever’ look, one he’d learned from Chloe. “Uh, no. Just want to get going. I’ve got some, uh, debts.”

“Ah.” Mulvaney shot him a knowing smile. “You would.”

Dan wanted to bristle, but that was the role he was here to play.

“Just a little more patience. You do this, I’m sure you’ll be golden. I want this to work. Remember, I vouched for you.”

“I appreciate it, man. I’ve got this.”

When Dan stumbled out of the dark bar a few hours later, he was shocked to find it was still bright and sunny.

“Need a ride?” Mulvaney offered.

“Nah, nah. It’s the wrong direction for you. I’ll catch an Uber.”

“Suit yourself, Espinoza.”

Dan ordered the Uber to Rodriguez’s coffee shop in Los Feliz. A short time later, he stood in front of the barista trying to order a coffee. _Pretend you’re sober, pretend you’re sober, it’s four-thirty on a Thursday for christsake_. Waiting for the coffee, he was pretty sure he hadn’t pulled it off.

He sat sipping his drink and trying to get his shit together. He thought he’d handled the meeting well, but all that was buzzing in his head was _Russians, Russians, Russians_. When he’d nursed the last of the coffee past when it was stone cold in his cup, he made his way to the restroom.

He slid the bolt into place, and ran a hand through his hair as he paced. Even if…even if too much came to light and then…but, well, Hell was enteral, wasn’t it? He could go back and forth on what to do forever, but what good would that do?

Fuck it. Sitting on the closed toilet seat, he hit upload on the file on his phone. And tapped out a message. _Need to meet_.

* * *

The penthouse wasn’t a mess, at least not in any traditional sense. She could never describe it that way. But there were _three_ tumblers left about—one on the bar, one on the piano, and one on the coffee table. His suit jacket was thrown—rather than neatly folded—over the back of the couch.

She caught sight of him out on the balcony, just as he was turning to see her, a fourth tumbler, half full, in his hands. His eyes flicked up and down the length of her, and she thought there was something longing and desperate in his gaze. He came back inside as far as the beginning of his couch, lounging against it with one long arm. “Detective, I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

Her heart turned over in her chest. It hadn’t hit her until then, but, for all of his “Chloe’s” and “darlings” of late, it had once again been “detective” these last few days. How he’d—they’d—arrived here, she was struggling to understand. She was sure she’d missed a page, but she was doing her best to cram as quickly as possible.

“You were making pretty sure you wouldn’t see me here, today, weren’t you?”

His eyes flickered away, but he didn’t deny it. Of course he didn’t. Instead, he deflected, “Of course, you are welcome here any time you like, my dear Detective.”

She wanted to slap the cordial-but-distant expression off of his face.

Three quick steps toward him had him tensing, so she stopped. “I don’t know _why_ you are doing this…trying to push me away…but if you don’t think I know what you are doing, you’re wrong.”

Annoyance flickered across his face before his mask reasserted itself. “It’s occurred to me that we may have been just a _little_ hasty in getting together.” He said it the same offhand way he might have complained about the weather or a poorly mixed drink. “Before you had a chance to really think through what you were getting yourself into.”

He might be projecting on her, but Chloe very well heard his own insecurity in his words. “I’m not going to pretend it’s not confusing for me, too. I wasn’t prepared to learn everything I learned. And _of course_ I’m still working to understand it all. It’d be crazy, if I wasn’t, right? And maybe you’re right. Maybe we should’ve taken things slower. But one thing that _hasn’t_ changed is how I feel about you. Even while the rest is…even if I’m struggling to understand…even if I…”

His gaze sharpened as she fumbled to explain. “You want me but you don’t think you should.” He nodded at his realization. “Of course.”

“No, Lucifer, it’s not like that!”

Her words were like a lick of electricity running up him, stiffening his frame from toes to head. Only his lips moved. “Don’t lie to me.”

And then his eyes flashed with hellfire.

Chloe gasped. She’d seen them several times now, but not in anger directed toward her. She saw his little flinch at what he’d done, but just as quickly he doubled down, fixing her with that gaze.

No, he wasn’t getting away with that. Her hand snapped out, catching his chin, forcing him to keep his eyes on her.

“This is supposed to scare me? I thought we’d been through this.”

He bared his teeth at her.

“Is that all you’ve got? Let me see the rest.”

He narrowed his eyes, giving a half shake of his head.

“Let me see the rest,” she demanded.

So he did.

He was frozen for a moment, but then went on the attack. “Is this what you want to see? Because you are _so_ okay with it? Sure, right.” He touched her cheek with the back of his hand in a mockery of a caress.

It was clear to her that he wanted her to jerk away. So she moved in, instead, catching his hand and placing his palm along her face, as she stared into his burning eyes, daring him to be the one to back down.

He smirked. “Really, Detective?” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, leered, and stepped closer.

It was like they were playing a game of chicken. She could read he was deeply uncomfortable with this but was intent on making _her_ back down. That wasn’t going to happen. She caught the edges of his shirt in her hands and pulled. The ping of buttons hitting the floor rang in the sudden silence.

His gasp of shock was loud in the penthouse.

She remembered the sense of aching tenderness from her dream and the overwhelming desire to _know_ him this way, the feeling like her entire existence rode that razor’s edge, and she moaned, running her palm up his scarred, ridged chest.

And he flinched first, pulling away. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t know what you’re trying to prove.”

And she didn’t either. Was it to him, that she wasn’t repulsed? Was it to herself? She didn’t want to lose him, but was there a little part of herself that wanted some twisted confirmation that the fears she was working so hard to bury were true?

“Fine,” she said, stepping back. “Fine. Are you done then?”

He nodded, reverting to his more familiar form.

“I told you you weren’t the Devil to me. I might have been _a little_ hasty on the not-the-Devil part. But one thing I am sure of: you’re no monster. And you aren’t going to convince me otherwise no matter how hard you try.”

His reaction wasn’t what she was hoping for. He scowled and looked away, seeming deeply troubled. “So you’re saying you’re okay with—with—”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” Chloe stopped him, guessing he was deciding what to throw in her face. “I’m—Lucifer, I’m not an idiot. I know you are _capable_ of…Even before I _knew_ , I knew you were capable of _things_ …things I preferred to ignore…” She took a breath, gathering herself. “But I also knew—believed—that’s not who you are. I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

“ _I-killed-a-human, Chloe._ ” It was hissed out on a single breath. His Devil face had flickered back. “If that doesn’t prove—”

“ _No_.” She cut him off, emphatic. She took his face in both her hands and forced him to look at her. “No. You killed a monster who was trying to kill us. Was it the only possible choice? Maybe not. It’s _good_ to wonder that. But that doesn’t make you evil or a monster.”

“But I—”

She put her fingers to his lips, stopping his words. “Shhhhh. I know. I do.”

“You can’t.”

“I do.”

She dropped her hands to his neck leaned her forehead against his, pale skin against red, and closed her eyes, in a deliberate mirror of their long-gone moment outside the mad professor’s lab.

They stayed in that moment for a long time, breathing each other’s air. Chloe could feel some of the tension ebbing. When, at last, they pulled apart, his Devil face had melted away once more.

He was looking at her with intensely hopeful eyes that made her heart clench, but there was still doubt in them.

“You’re awfully sure,” he whispered. “About all of this.”

“I’m not. But I’m taking the chance. Because I _believe_ I know.”

He shook his head, somewhere between amazement and disbelief.

“But I need to know,” Chloe continued. “What do _you_ want? I can’t…as much as I care about you…I need to know—who do you want to be?”

He glanced down, toying with his ring. “I want to be—”

“Don’t say worthy.”

He huffed, pulling away. She watched him pace to the bar and pick up the empty to glass resting there. He spun it with his fingers.

She followed him, leaning against the bar by his side. “Lucifer. This…I can’t…this won’t work unless…” She took a breath and repeated firmly. “I need to know.”

She watched him freeze, but in the next moment all of the fight went out of him. He looked up and she knew he would answer.

“I want to be…I know I’ve said it before, but I want to be my own man.” He continued twirling the empty glass. “Only, I don’t always know what that means. I want this life.” The tumbler continued spinning even though he’d let it go. “To work with you, to be with you. Yet…” The glass thumped to a stop on the bar top. “I _am_ a punisher. I’m good at it, and I like it. That isn’t going to change. But…I do understand…well, some of the time, anyway. I _do_ listen, and I do learn. But I’m still me. I…”

“Oh, Lucifer. I don’t want you to be someone you’re not. I just need to know whether who I think you are is…is who you…is close to who you want to be. That it’s not some kind of…some kind of a front you’re putting on because it’s what you think I want.” There, she’d said her second biggest fear.

His hand jerked where it rested on the bar top. “It’s not!” His eyes were imploring her, “Please believe me. It’s not. This life…these feelings…it’s all still new. I screw it up.” He laughed, self-deprecating. “At least I can tell Linda thinks I do. And I—maybe I’ve kept more of myself from you than I should. But I want—I do want—”

She took his hands in her own, steadying them, encouraging him. She wasn’t sure if he would or could say more, and that was alright.

To her surprise, he did continue. “I want…to be myself and to be…good.” The last word was said on barely a breath. Then he pulled a deep one in. “Even if that isn’t always human-rules-law-enforcement good.”

Chloe couldn’t help her little laugh that was mostly relief. “Okay.” She tightened her hold on his hands. “Okay. Maybe we can figure out what that means, together?”

He nodded. His face was still tight, and she could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. But there wasn’t anything else to say right now. So she drew him over to the couch, and pulled him down next to her. She burrowed into his side, and sighed as his arm came around her to gently stroke her shoulder. She rested her cheek on his chest, near his heart, feeling its beat and the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. He didn’t make a move to turn the moment into anything more and he didn’t speak. Both very unlike him, but she thought it was good.

A very long time later, after her left leg had fallen asleep and her right arm was cramping where it was pinned between them, she pulled away. By the changing light streaming in from the balcony, afternoon had fallen to early evening. He let his arm drop from her and tipped his head forward to give her his attention.

“I’ve got to go, or Trixie’s new babysitter is going to quit on me like the last one.”

“Of course…Chloe.” His voice was hoarse. “I-I’m glad you came by. I—thank y—”

She snorted and caught an offended look from him in response. “Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t need to thank…but I’m glad I came by, too.” She kissed him, then, pressing her lips to his with an urgency that came out of nowhere.

He kissed her back with a similar fervency, and they were both breathing fast when they broke apart.

She put a hand on his chest for leverage as she pushed herself back and stood up. “Seriously. I can’t lose another babysitter.” She found her flats and toed them on. “But if you want to call or…come by later…” She gave him a hopeful smile.

“Thank—” He cut himself off, clearing his throat. “I may take you up on that.” He reached out and ran a hand from her knee to her hip, leering suggestively, but she sensed his heart wasn’t in it.

“If you need some time alone, that’s okay, too.”

He looked relieved. “Thank—” His mouth snapped shut.

“Stop being ridiculous,” she told him with a tender look on the way to the elevator.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so, Season 4! Hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did! And thanks for the patience on the publishing schedule while I took that in! 
> 
> I hope you will continue with me as this story reaches its last chapters! I'm excited about it, even though we are now officially in canon-divergent AU territory. This story was never what would happen in the show, but rather the "what if" of what if Deckerstar got together precipitously quickly and *then* had to deal with the fall out. I'm finalizing the last few chapters, which are mostly written, and they will not contain spoilers.
> 
> Enjoy!

The jarring trill of Dan's phone startled him as he leaned his head against his hand. He read the text. _I get off at 6:30_. Shit, he'd blown the code. He glanced back at his text, and decided it wasn't so bad. And he still had more than an hour to get his shit together. He'd order another coffee and drink some water. A lot of water.

Rodriguez would tell him what to do. He liked Rodriguez; he trusted Rodriguez. Dan had made this work so far. He could keep doing this. Except…could Mulvaney tell Dan thought he was a piece of shit? He choked on his water. Could Mulvaney tell that Dan thought he _himself_ was a piece of shit? Hell-bound piece of shit. Life had been so much easier when he didn't think there were consequences beyond the here-and-now.

He ran a shaking hand through his short hair. Maybe he should talk to Chloe…or even Lucifer? It was their evidence. But Chloe'd try to stop him…try to make him stop this altogether. Lucifer might help. The Devil wouldn't have a huge hang up about "borrowing evidence." But then again he wouldn't keep it secret from Chloe, either. Besides, Rodriguez had insisted he not tell anyone. No, he could do this. Rodriguez would help him.

His phone went off again, and he jerked his hand, spilling his glass of water. Snatching the phone out of the puddle, he wiped it dry on his shirt. A young women at the next table brought him a pile of napkins from the counter. Thanking her sheepishly, he wiped up the mess. When he looked down at his phone at last, it was a message from Trixie: _Goodnight Dad!_ 😴  _Love you!_ ❤️

Drawing in a steadying breath, he tapped out: _Love you 2 monkey_ 🐵 _. Sleep tight_.

He still had so much to lose. So much to gain and so much to lose. He got up and refilled his water glass. His chair made a too-loud scraping noise in the emptying coffee shop. The barista gave him a faint smile, as if she wanted to reassure him. Did he really seem that pathetic?

He felt steadier by the time 6:30 rolled around, and he slipped out the back. He opened the rear door of a nondescript blue van parked in the alley and climbed in. Rodriguez was waiting and gave him a reassuring smile.

In a rush, Dan explained about meeting Graves and what they wanted him to do.

"I'm close to meeting the boss." Dan rubbed his palms on his thighs. "But I don't think I can refuse or put them off on this evidence thing. I'm either in or out with this."

Rodriguez looked thoughtful. "We can maintain chain of custody, document you taking it, transferring it to me, storing it in IA. It can work. But it does move up our timetable considerably. We can't tank a murder investigation for this one. If you do this, I can give you maybe a week to meet with the boss, and that will have to do. If you're comfortable with this. Ultimately, it's up to you."

Rodriguez was kind giving him an out, but he had no idea what was at stake. Dan hadn't come this far for it to be for nothing. "Let's do it."

"Great." Rodriguez shifted forward on the bench across from Dan. "Agreeing to get the knife tomorrow…it doesn't give us a lot of time to play with." He reached next to him and pulled a satchel onto his lap. He fished out phone, and handed it to Dan. "When you get the knife, text pictures to the number stored in contacts. Oh, and any obvious manufacturer or model information. Don't use _your_ phone. We'll get the closest match we can on short notice. When I'm on my way here, I'll text you, say…" He paused, thinking.

"Hey, there, monkey bottoms?" Dan tried to break the tensions before his nerves ate him up, and the flash of memory surprised a smile out of him.

Rodriguez laughed. "Yeah, sure. Monkey bottoms. Why not. We'll meet here, make the swap, and you'll be on your way."

"Should I try to record again? Or wear a wire, or something?"

"No, too dangerous." Rodriguez gave a hard shake of his head. "We don't have nearly enough control of the situation. Just keep working your way in, ID anyone you can, and be safe."

Dan sighed, dropping his head to his hands for a moment. He needed to be patient. He did.

"Espinoza, everything is going really well. You're doing really well. If you handle this the way you've been handling everything so far, I think we'll know who's running this group very soon."

Dan nodded. "Then what happens?"

"Knowing who's in charge of this is a big win, in-and-of-itself. Don't lose sight of that." Rodriguez gave Dan's arm a reassuring pat. "But what happens next is we'll try to get those we can on tape incriminating themselves."

"Right; sounds good." Dan dusted his hands together, eager to get on with things.

"One thing at a time, okay, Espinoza. Safe and smart."

"Safe and smart," Dan agreed. "See you tomorrow."

Dan drove home, poured one last bourbon, and crawled into bed. He fell asleep with a hopeful smile on his lips.

* * *

Chloe got home with minutes to spare before the absolute latest Trixie's new babysitter, Angie, could stay. When she opened the door, she heard Trixie squeal as she jumped out of her chair before drawing up short and going quiet.

Angie gave her a nod. "Long day? Cool. Trix has been working on her homework. She has something she needs to tell you."

Chloe's daughter was looking at her feet, stubbing the toe of one sneaker against the heel of the other.

"I…Nicola was being mean—" She paused but Chloe waited for her to continue. If she could wait out hardened criminals, she could wait out a nine year old. "Aaaand we got in an argument. Mrs. Keane says I have to miss recess tomorrow and next week and that you need to sign this." She dug around in her bag and handed Chloe a crumpled note from her teacher.

Chloe smoothed the paper and gave it a quick read. Hair pulling. Name calling. "We'll talk about this in a minute," she told Trixie.

Angie was pulling on her coat and boots when Chloe met her at the door. She spoke to Chloe in a soft voice. "She's been upset all afternoon. I barely got her calmed down and doing her homework an hour ago."

"Thank you, Angie."

Chloe closed the door and rested her head against it. When she turned around, Trixie was curled up on the couch with her head buried into an arm. Chloe settled next to her, stroking her hair until she unwound a little and looked up.

"I'm sorry, mommy. I know I'm supposed to be the bigger person. I just got so mad." She bit her lip and tears welled in her eyes. "I don't want you to be disappointed."

Chloe pulled her monkey into her arms. Now wasn't the time for a talk, after all. Instead, she held her tight and let her cry. When she felt the tears stop and her little girl's body relax, she reached for the remote and turned on _Ralph Breaks the Internet_.

Chloe hated this one, but it was Trixie's current obsession. It wasn't too much later when she saw the first hesitant smile, followed by a broader one, and then a few snorts. Soon enough, they were sitting side by side laughing along with Ralph and Vanellope.

* * *

Linda hesitated outside the precinct Friday morning, second guessing her decision to come. She'd received a call last night from her most unique patient. She'd listened and done her best and was happy where they'd ended. She was also left with the impression that today might be a better day to approach Chloe about her other special friend. Whether it was fair to use her knowledge from a therapy session…well, Linda was far too tangled in this particular set of lives to back out now. She squared her shoulders and made her way to Chloe's desk.

Chloe didn't look up until Linda was standing in front of her. "Linda! What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

"Yes! Yes, of course." She offered Chloe the coffee and lemon-cranberry muffin she'd brought her. "I was just hoping to talk. I meant to the other night, but, well, it didn't seem like a good time."

Chloe took the coffee and the paper bag and set them aside with a smile and a thanks. She settled her hands on her desk in front of her, giving Linda her full attention. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was hoping to talk to you…about Maze." Linda stopped, waiting for a reaction.

Chloe's lips twitched toward a frown, but she schooled her expression. "She asked you talk to me?"

"Not in so many words. But I'm going to say, yes."

Moments ticked by before Chloe spoke. "You know what she did? I mean, all of it?"

"Yes." Linda put her own coffee down on the desk and gave Chloe her full attention. "What she did was incredibly hurtful. To you in particular. But…" She leaned cocked her head, studying Chloe's reaction. "But I think it's worth seeing if you can find a way forward."

"How can I do that, Linda?"

"I would understand completely if you chose not to forgive her. If she was human, I probably wouldn't have come to talk to you."

Casting her eyes away, Chloe scoffed.

"But she's not, and I believe she's trying. She wants to make amends. It's up to you whether you're willing to go down that road. But I will say this: You're a Celestial insider now. They aren't simple, to say the least."

Chloe snorted. "True."

"Maze struggles with a life that is very much different from what she's always known. I think her life got a little more complicated—a little more real—than she was prepared for. She got scared. She got scared and sabotaged herself. I've seen enough humans do it, though perhaps rarely as spectacularly."

Toying with her necklace, Chloe nodded, slow and contemplative.

Linda thought she was planting seeds, at the very least. "She blinked before she did something truly impossible to take back, and I do believe she realized in that moment how much she'd damaged the life she had been building. And regretted it. You know her. She does try, she learns, eventually, and…well, she wants to fix things."

When Chloe's eyes flickered back to Linda's, they were wet. "Okay, Linda. I'll think about it. I…appreciate you coming to talk to me."

Linda leaned back in her seat and smiled, relieved she hadn't overstepped. Chloe stood, and Linda followed her lead. She was surprised when Chloe gave her a hug.

"You know," she said, as they broke apart, "you can come talk to me anytime you want. Not as a therapist, but as a friend."

"Thanks, Linda. I appreciate it."

Linda gathered up her coffee cup and purse, hesitating before adding: "She does care about you. And she adores Trixie."

Chloe's ease disappeared, and, looking down, she steadied herself on her desk. Linda wasn't sure what she'd said wrong, so she waited.

Taking a deep breath, Chloe looked up. "Linda, I've been meaning to ask. Can you recommend a child therapist? The last couple years…have been a lot. And I was thinking…"

When Chloe trailed off, Linda stepped in. "Yes, of course. I know a few good people, and I'll get you the names."

She pulled Chloe in for one more hug, careful not to spill her coffee, before heading out to her car.

* * *

One thing Rodriguez hadn't been able to help with was how Dan would take the pocket knife from evidence without being seen. Today had to be the day. As he'd arranged, Mulvaney was out pursing leads on a drug-related shooting they were supposed to be working. Dan was nominally filling out reports, but all of his attention was on how he'd get the knife.

Dan could see the evidence box in the conference room where Chloe and Lucifer were currently working. They had various items laid out. Chloe was sitting in a chair and Lucifer was perched on the edge of the table. A scene he'd seen a hundred times, before he _knew_. Now, he found himself watching every little tick of Lucifer's behavior.

"Hey, Dan!"

Dan almost fell out of his chair at Ella's cheerful greeting.

"Ohhhh. Sorry, man. I wasn't trying to sneak up on you." Her smile was apologetic. "Deep in thought, huh?"

Dan put his hand on desk to stop its shaking.

Ella had a stack of folders hugged to her chest. "Those for me?" Dan asked.

"Oh, yeah, yeah." She pulled the first one off the stack. "Blood-typing for the Morris case. And"—she found a second folder in the stack—"phone records for the Halabi case."

"Thanks, Ella."

When Dan took the files, she continued: "Your partner wanted me to match some fibers for the Flores case." She shook her head. "That's not how it works. I tried explaining that to him, but I think he thought I was giving him a hard time. You mind talking to him?"

"Will do, Ella." Her relief was obvious; as if Dan didn't have enough reasons to despise Mulvaney. "Listen, do you know what's up with Chloe and Lucifer's case?"

"It's a stumper, I think. Pretty professional job. Not much trace evidence and not many leads. But if anyone can solve it, it's those two, right?" She gave his shoulder a little punch.

He nodded absently, wishing Ella was out today. "Could you do me a favor?" His mind was scrambling to come up with an excuse to get her out of the precinct.

"Sure thing! Just tell me, you know I'm here for you."

As if Dan could feel any guiltier. "Well, remember the crime scene just off Wabash earlier this week?"

"Sure. The shooting with the poor dog. I mean, how can anyone be that callous? 'You and your little dog, too,'" she imitated with a guffaw.

"I was wondering if you could give it a second sweep. I know Mulvaney rushed your guys out." He held his hands palm up in an apologetic gesture.

"Sure, Dan, of course! I'll get out there as soon as I finish delivering these reports."

Dan turned back to his paperwork while continuing to keep a surreptitious eye on the conference room. On her way out, Ella gave a little wave and a thumbs up. He let his head hang in his hands for a minute.

When Dan glanced back up, he saw something had changed in the conversation between the two partners. He watched through the glass as Lucifer seemed to grow increasingly agitated. He stood up, and his animated gestures encompassed the evidence on the table, Chloe, and, apparently, the world outside the windows.

Chloe stood, too, and stepped close to him, talking more calmly. She placed a hand on his arm, and Dan thought she was trying to calm him. They'd always been very comfortable touching each other, to Dan's often-annoyed eye.

But that was before she knew. How could she be so comfortable now? If anything they seemed closer. He watched the way she was stroking Lucifer's arm and the way he leaned his head toward her. Dan jerked in his chair. It was one thing contemplating working with the Devil, even being friends of sorts. But…she couldn't be sleeping with him, could she? Not with knowing he was the Devil. Not when he looked like…that. No, that couldn't be right.

Whatever was disturbing Lucifer hadn't abated, and Chloe pulled him toward the conference room door and then across the precinct floor.

"Come on. Let's take a walk," Dan heard her say as they passed by his desk.

The conference room was now empty.

Dan stopped his knee from bouncing and got up. No one would pay him any mind going into the conference room, which didn't explain why he felt like he had a dozen eyes on his back. There, in the box, was the pocket knife in its little plastic bag. It was nothing to take it out of the box and put it on the table where it would be hidden from the conference room's glass wall. He pretended to look at a couple of photos, and then slipped the knife into his pocket.

He went back to his desk and picked up a pen, intending to go back to his paperwork. His heart was beating much too fast, so he pretended instead.

* * *

Lucifer's long fingers picked at the peeling paint of the park bench. She'd dragged him to the little pocket park near the precinct when she'd sensed his frustration was threatening to boil over, potentially into a far too public display. She entwined her fingers with his, feeling the cuff of his suit jacket brushing her wrist. It was just their kind of luck that their first case back was proving difficult. The last thing he needed. But, realistically…

"You know, it's possible we won't catch this killer."

His eye twitched, as did his fingers in her grasp.

"It's possible." She wanted to prepare him. "It happens sometimes."

"That's not …. No." He shook his head, but wasn't looking at her. He hadn't let go of her hand, though. "We can't let a killer go unpunished." He gripped her hand hard. "He deserves to be punished, not rewarded—" His jaw tightened on any further words.

"Rewarded, Lucifer?" She knew they weren't talking about Aaron Wiśniewski's killer now.

Nor did he pretend they were. "It's not right. Why should I get…why should I get all of this"—his gesture encompassed her and then them both—"for…I should be punished not _happy_."

Chloe gathered her patience and squeezed the hand she held. "We're not together because of Cain and definitely not because you—"

"Murdered him."

"Killed him." He hadn't reached acceptance yet, she knew. "And the two things aren't connected. If anything, we're together _in spite of_ Cain."

He'd not come by last night. They'd exchanged a handful of superficial texts, late, before saying goodnight. All she could do was be there. Even while he steadfastly refused to believe she understood. Getting him to see that she…she worried he too much put her on a pedestal. She ran her thumb along his.

Her phone rang, vibrating in her pocket. She let go of his hand to fish it out. Swiping to answer, she held it up to her ear. It was Nick, the prosecutor. The warrant for the warehouse at the port had come in.

* * *

By the time Chloe and Lucifer arrived at the gate closest to Losopa's port warehouse about an hour and half later, it was almost four o'clock. She'd listened to Lucifer complain about her driving the entire trip down, even though she'd done the best she could with Friday afternoon L.A. traffic. Two squad cars and a forensic team were already waiting to assist with the search, as was the familiar car of Officer Gavin James, the man himself leaning against it. He straightened and gestured for the gate to be raised when he saw them pull up.

"Bloody hell," Lucifer said when he caught sight of him.

Chloe put the car in park but left it running while they stepped out to greet the Port Police officer.

"Good to see you again!" He gave Chloe's hand a hardy shake.

When Lucifer didn't offer his hand in turn, James clapped him on the arm. Chloe suppressed a smile as her partner managed a whole-body bristle, missing only a porcupine's quills.

"That was entirely unnecessary," he huffed.

Officer's James' pleased smile didn't falter. "I was really hoping to get a chance to work with you again."

"I appreciate that." Chloe glanced at the time again. "I hope we aren't going to keep you past your shift."

"Not at all. I'm working evening shift today. I'm only just now supposed to be coming on at 1600, but I was here already and clocked in a little early when I heard you were coming. Not every day I get a chance to help catch a killer." He clapped his hand together. "Now, come on. I've got a unit watching the warehouse since we heard you got the warrant. Looks like no one's in." James grinned. "I love getting to force a lock or break down a door."

Lucifer wrinkled his nose. "I hardly think that will be necessary."

Chloe guided her Charger behind James' patrol car until they reached the familiar row of warehouses. Lucifer unbuckled his belt before they stopped.

"Pull up close to the door, will you, darling? I do _so_ want to ruin our friendly-neighborhood-port-officer's day."

Chloe snorted and obliged. She watching him spring from the car and reach the entrance in practically one movement without once looking like he was rushing. He was folding the steel security gate back from the door before the LAPP cruiser was even parked. Chloe watched Officer James scramble after Lucifer, reaching him just in time to see the door swing open.

"Oh, _darn_ ," Lucifer said with a shit-eating grin. "No door-breaking necessary. What a disappointment."

When Chloe reached the entrance, Lucifer was standing a couple feet inside, surveying the dark warehouse. She could see the frown on his face in the little light coming in the door. Feeling along the wall, she found a bank of switches and flipped them one by one. The lights flickered on in sequence down the length of the warehouse. She could see the source of his frown. It was empty.

James whistled. "Looks cleaned out."

Chloe refrained from shooting him a no-shit look. Two desks formed an L past the entrance and row of glass-block windows. Chloe investigated. Three monitors but no computers. The cables from unhooked-keyboards and mice dangled from the desks. She opened the drawers, but each was empty. The same was true of the three tall filing cabinets that lined the wall.

Lucifer prowled around the room while she called the forensic team in. He tipped over some crates near the back, but they were empty, too. With more force than necessary, he rolled up the back door, letting in more light. The afternoon sun silhouetted his tense form, hands stuck in his pockets.

In the end, one of the forensic techs found a small spatter of blood near one of the support pillars. They documented it with photos and took samples to try to match with Aaron's. But it was no more than might be found if a worker injured himself or someone had a serious bloody nose. Nothing to do but wait for the forensic report.

She pulled Lucifer to stand on the loading dock in the back where they wouldn't be overheard. "Hey, I know it's not what we were hoping for."

"Certainly not."

She tried to will reassurance through the hand she still had on his arm. "The forensic team can continue to process the scene for any additional trace evidence without us. Why don't we go ho—back to my place. We can have dinner and then maybe watch the security video"—she nodded at the camera across the parking lot—"see if the evidence techs missed something."

He looked down at her. She hadn't realized how close they were standing until that moment. His eyes were troubled, but his smile was tender.

"Okay, Chloe."

* * *

Dan couldn't seem to control the bounce of his leg while he waited at a back table in the coffee shop. Too much caffeine. But he knew that was a lie. It was nerves. It was taking Rodriguez _hours_ to find a good substitute knife. Unable to take the stress at the precinct, he'd headed here to Los Feliz when his shift had ended.

He'd texted Mulvaney, putting him off for a couple more hours. Taking several deep breaths, he tried to get his game face back. He _was_ doing this. He couldn't go into tonight a mess. He needed a distraction. Opening his phone, he flipped through pictures. Him and Trixie at the pier last weekend. Both of them with Charlotte a few weeks before. Him and Charlotte at a neighborhood festival. Too many shots of Trixie in a school play. Back and back he went. Him, Trixie, and Chloe when they'd still been a family. He was looking at a picture of Trix blowing out the candles on her cake at her sixth birthday when a notification banner flipped down. Rodriguez had arrived.

Feeling calmer, Dan made his way out the back of the coffee shop and into the waiting van.

"Sorry for the wait. It wasn't the easiest knife to match."

"It's fine; it's fine." Dan pulled the evidence bag from his pocket and offered it up.

Rodriguez carefully copied the writing from the evidence bag onto the one with the replacement knife. He handed both to Dan. "Fill out the chain of custody label on the real one."

Dan did, writing neatly. Rodriguez filled in the next entry when Dan handed it back and put it in the satchel at his side.

"Okay, that's it." He gave Dan a reassuring smile. "Remember, be safe. If anything doesn't feel right, just get out."

"Right. I will. And we'll meet…?"

"When you can, you'll text me. With any luck, you'll be meeting with the boss tonight or tomorrow. One more thing." He reached in his satchel again. "Here."

He held out something on a chain, and Dan took it. A St. Michael pendant. Patron saint of police officers. Dan gave him a puzzled look. "Think I need that much help?"

Rodriguez turned the pendant over in Dan's hand to show him the back. "It's a panic button. But don't get yourself in a position to need it, huh?"

Dan clasped the chain around his neck, and shook Rodriguez's hand.

* * *

After dinner and after Trixie was in bed, Chloe sat curled against Lucifer's side on her couch, her legs pulled up underneath her. He had his ankles crossed on her ottoman, laptop balanced on his thigh playing silent surveillance video. One long arm draped around her, his hand drawing lazy caresses against her side. His other hand hovered over the pause key. He read off license plates as she checked them against the list they'd been provided.

She covered a yawn with her hand, even though it wasn't all that late. Every plate had checked out so far, and there'd been nothing unusual on the tape. Lucifer's eyes didn't leave the laptop but she saw his lips twitch.

"Falling asleep on me, darling?" He clicked his tongue in the side of his cheek. "I would have hoped to have had the chance to exhaust you myself later."

Chloe was about to reply when a car that most definitely was not on her list pulled into frame. An L.A. Port Police cruiser.

She felt Lucifer tense all along her side as he leaned toward the screen. "Well, hello."

The evidence tech hadn't thought to log a law enforcement vehicle. On the screen, the car turned and the plate and unit number came into view.

"That's our cretinous Officer James'." Lucifer's voice was deadly quiet.

"How do you—?"

"We drove behind him today. I remember." It was nearly a growl.

His arm unwound from around her, but she refused to move from his side even as she felt his growing tension. She tasted it, too. The familiar anticipation that came with a lead. With moving closer to catching a killer. To the satisfaction of an arrest.

She did her best to tamp down on her excitement. "It doesn't necessarily mean…Switch to the camera on the other side of the dark spot. Maybe he's just driving straight through." She jotted down the timestamp.

She had him skip forward once he'd pulled up the other video.

He sped the playback to a x5 rate, and they watched various cars entering and exiting the frame. But not a Port Police cruise.

The minutes ticked by and the cruiser didn't appear. Lucifer's grip tightened on the laptop to the point she thought he might damage it. She steadied the computer with one hand and wrapped her other around his, easing his hold, feeling that his pulse was racing in expectation just as much as hers. His fingers twitched and then relaxed, turning to caress hers in return. She blushed as she felt the familiar spark. Now was not the time. What was _wrong_ with her.

She straightened and focused on the computer. The suspense only continued to draw out as the conclusion grew more inescapable. It was a full 42 minutes in footage time later when the cruiser pulled back into frame.

Lucifer leapt to his feet in a sudden move. Chloe barely kept the laptop from tumbling.

"He did it." His eyes flashed red. "That _buffoon_ is our killer."

It was slim evidence and they had no motive, but her gut was telling her the same. She watched as Lucifer began to pace, fidgeting with his cuffs.

"Seems like," she agreed. "This isn't enough for an arrest warrant. But I'm sure he'll talk with us"—she heard him mutter something along the lines of _all he does_ —"so maybe he'll give something up. Otherwise, you can use your mojo on him. I'll ask him to come in tomorrow. Tell him we need his help."

He stopped dead. "No."

"No?"

"He's a murderer _pretending to be law enforcement_." And he was moving again, pushing shaky fingers through his hair.

Chloe stood in front of him to stop his pacing, taking his forearms in her hands. "Lucifer, you're _not_ him." She gave his arms a gentle shake until his eyes snapped up. "You're not him, do you hear me?"

"I—hear you." He frowned and his eyes burned again, a prism of reds and oranges. "It's not enough."

She tilted her head in question.

"Tomorrow. Polite questioning. It's not enough."

"O-okay."

"Okay?" Disbelief colored his tone.

"Yeah. Okay." She slid her hands down to take his. "We'll go tonight."

His expression brightened, and he gave her a look that bordered on adoration, which was mildly alarming given he managed to do it without looking one ounce less predatory.

He scooped up his suit jacket. "Well come on. I'm of a mind to have a rather _impolite_ conversation with this tosser."

She caught him again, bringing him to a halt. His brows knit in a confused frown.

"Trixie?" she reminded.

His face twitched, expression flashing from annoyance to alarm to something sheepish.

"It's okay," she reassured. "Let me just call Dan."

Ten minutes later and with no success, she returned to where Lucifer leaned against the island in her kitchen.

"Dan's not answering, and Trixie's new babysitter isn't available. Her old one either."

There was one other person Chloe had thought to call, but she'd hesitated. Linda's words had been echoing in her head all day. Chloe was still tremendously hurt. But, Maze had sought her out. She'd actually apologized…sort of…in a very Maze fashion. But she'd tried. And, really, that was nothing short of a miracl—a shock.

Lucifer's sudden movement as he straightened caught her attention. He was frowning with an inward look. "Perhaps it's for the best you not come along after all. Leave this…this deplorable plodder to me."

"No!" She stopped him before he could head for the door. "No. We're in this together, remember? I'm—I'm going to call Maze."

His scowl turned truly dark, but he didn't refuse.

She walked to the other side of the living room, out of his earshot. Or at least human earshot. Ugh, something to ask him later.

The phone rang three times before Maze answered: "Decker, that you?" Was that a hint of uncertainty in her voice?

"Yeah, it's me. I, uh, Linda came to talk to me today."

There was a long pause. "Yeah, she said."

"Right, yeah, and I've been thinking about what she and I talked about." There was silence on the other side of the line, and Chloe pictured Maze drumming her fingers with her typical bored expression. Except that wasn't quite right. "I—I want to try—try to move forward."

"Yeah?" That definitely didn't sound bored. "I mean, Decker, I knew you'd be cool. We're tribe, you and me. Yeah. Hell yeah."

Chloe couldn't help smiling. Maze was so Maze. "And I was hoping…as a start…maybe you could come watch Trixie?"

Chloe heard the slight gasp on the line even as Maze tried to cover it with a scoff. "Ask anytime, Decker. You know I like the little human."

Chloe bit her lip. "Now?"

* * *

Dan met Mulvaney in the parking lot of a Ralph's like they'd planned. Plausible deniability, Mulvaney'd said, like the walking cliché he was. It took Dan a moment to located his partner's car parked between two SUVs. Dan pulled up across from him and exited his car. Mulvaney got out, as well. He was wearing a tight smile as he gestured Dan into the secluded space between his car and the SUV.

"Did you get it, Espinoza?"

"Yeah, of course. It just took a bit for a window. But I got it."

Dan pulled the evidence bag out of his jacket, and offered it to his partner. When Mulvaney kept his hands in his pockets and didn't reach to take it, Dan frowned and leaned back.

The scuff of a shoe was his only warning before arms circled him from behind and a hand clapped over his mouth. He tried to drop down to break the bear hug, but as soon as he did, he felt something come down hard on the back of his head. A warm trickle ran down his neck. And then nothing.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After getting off schedule due to binging S4, I seem to be on a Sunday schedule now. I doubt I will be able to get back to Wednesday in time for this week. Thank you so much to ObliObla and Matchstick Dolly for their help with this chapter. I'm grateful. Thanks for listening to me have a meltdown about that one scene that wasn't coming out right. <3

Officer James was not in the Port Police office when Chloe and Lucifer arrived. But the desk sergeant directed them to the command center and the very helpful Officer Chen, who offered to pull up James’ location from the transponder in his cruiser.

Lucifer settled next to the keyboard on which Chen was typing. Chloe’s eyes slid his way—he was looking particularly long and lean perched on the edge of the counter—and he caught her, grinning. She refocused. A bank of monitors showed the various entry gates and major arteries of the port.

“Shouldn’t be too hard to find him. He’s patrolling the inner harbor area.” Chen typed a few strokes, and the view in the bottom row of monitors changed. One was dark.

“Weird,” Chen said. “Camera 153 seems to be out.”

“Convenient.” Lucifer’s voice was low and dangerous.

“Where is that,” Chloe asked.

Chen pulled a binder from his desk and flipped to a map. His finger ran along the page until he found a spot labeled ’153.’ “On Pike Street, just before the turn off for the cement terminals.”

Pulling out her phone, Chloe took a photo of the map.

“Here,” Chen said, reaching for the keyboard. “Let me see if I can get the camera back up.”

“Don’t,” Lucifer said, laying two fingers on the inside of Chen’s wrist, stopping his hand.

Chloe’s heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t stop him.

“But…” Chen’s brows drew together, confused.

“Just leave it be.” His voice was gentle, nearly seductive, but Chloe could almost feel the danger radiating from him.

“It’s against protocol. I-I—”

Lucifer slid closer, and Chloe felt she could almost hear Chen’s heart beat in the quiet room. The fingers left his wrist and caught under Chen’s chin instead, tilting his face up until their eyes met.

“Maybe we can make a deal then. Tell me, what do you desire?”

Chen blinked, succumbing quickly, words spilling out in a rush. “I-I-I want a puppy! But my apartment building has a no pets policy, so I can’t. And I…I just really love dogs and…and I just wanna boop their little snoots.”

Lucifer laughed in disbelief and let Chen go. “Well, that’s a simple enough one.” Shaking his head and not really suppressing a smirk, his body language relaxed.

It seemed to break the spell for Chloe, too. She found herself grinning in relief, as if some major tension had been cut.

Lucifer offered his hand to Chen. “I’ll make sure your building changes its pets policy by the end of the week in exchange for switching the screens back the way they were and letting this one little camera go. Deal?”

Chen blinked up at him, but after a moment he took the extended hand. “D-deal.”

“Very good.” Lucifer clapped him on the shoulder after he let his hand go. “Enjoy the puppy.”

On their way back to their car, Chloe asked: “Why do they believe you can deliver on things like that?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Don’t know. They just do.”

* * *

Dan awoke slowly. Groggily. Until he realized he was sitting up and his hands were bound behind his back. Then he was awake all at once. He jerked before he could think to play possum, and he saw Graves enter his field of vision.

“Oh, here we are. Our would-be mole.” He smacked Dan across the side of his head.

“Careful,” a voice Dan didn’t know said. “We don’t want him out again.”

Dan forced his head to turn. It felt inordinately heavy. The voice had come from a gray-haired man, perhaps in his mid-fifties. Dan’s eyes darted to the Smith & Wesson at his hip. He didn’t know him but had no trouble believing he too was a cop. His eyes moved past him to his surroundings. A mostly empty room. Worn, stained carpet. A dusty fireplace with a faux-stone facade. Heavy curtains covering a picture window or sliding glass door. An empty house somewhere? How long had he been out?

They were waiting for him to speak. “What is this? I got you what you asked for! Is this some kind of test?” he tried to bluff.

The gray-haired man tsk’d his tongue. “Don’t play, Espinoza. We know you’re working with internal affairs.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I?”

Graves crouched down in front of him. “Stop, Espinoza. You’re just embarrassing yourself.”

Dan gaped at him.

“Please. I followed you to your little coffee shop in Los Feliz after we met. Thought you might just be sobering up. But I checked your Uber account—here’s a hint, don’t use your daughter’s name for passwords—and I saw you’d been there a lot. Funny, though, it’s not near your apartment or your precinct.”

“There’s a cute barista…” Dan started.

“Unless the barista is six foot, has a mustache, and is named Detective Rodriguez, I don’t think so.”

Dan could only stare. He was fucked.

“We didn’t get this far by being careless.”

“You followed me today.”

“It was a hunch. Disappointing I was correct, too.”

“What now?” Dan asked.

“You’re going to tell us what you’ve told Detective Rodriguez.”

“Why? You think I’ll recant?”

The gray-haired man chuckled. “You don’t get it. You’re not leaving here. The question is how easy it goes. Whether anything blows back on your kid or your ex-wife.”

Dan gulped a breath of air. This was the boss. Of course he wouldn’t show if they just wanted to make a deal with Dan. No, this was going to end in a shallow grave somewhere.

“Look, you don’t need to do this. I can still be useful. Be your man inside.”

“I don’t think so. Loyalty matters, Espinoza. And I don’t think you have any to anyone. But we’ll see—even a man like you must care about his daughter.”

Dan reached for his heart, looking for the St. Michael’s pendant with the panic button. It was gone.

Gray-hair snorted. “Even a dolt like Mulvaney noticed that was new.”

Dan glanced around but didn’t see Mulvaney.

“He’s not here. He’ll have a role to play later. He’s pretty pissed off, you know. He vouched for you. Now, are we going to have a conversation about what Detective Rodriguez knows?”

“Fine,” Dan said, resigned. “He knows the names of the guys I met. What you had me do. What else even is there?”

“I don’t know. You follow us? Bug us?”

Dan could only shake his head. They hadn’t been up and running long enough to even consider that.

Gray-hair leaned down. “Listen, Detective Espinoza. Pretty soon you’ll be gone and this won’t matter to you. But if we find out there’s more to this, we will make your family suffer. Don’t you want to go out with a clear conscience about them?”

“There isn’t anything else.” His mouth was dry as bone.

He was going to die. He was going to die and he’d put his family in danger. He’d failed to make anything better. He’d die and go to Hell, and he’d never know if they were safe.

He’d die...and oh God no. Trixie. He’d leave Trixie in the worst possible way. Leave like Chloe’s father had left her. Leave her in a way that would shape the rest of her life.

He moaned.

Gray-hair raised an eyebrow.

He really wasn’t ready to die. “Detective Rodriguez knows what I was doing, that I was meeting you. He’s going to know you were responsible for my death or disappearance.”

“Perhaps, but, even if he does, how’s he gonna prove anything?” Gray-hair interjected. “You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about it. You, my friend, are going to die in a robbery. You and your partner are going to stop for a late-night bite, but sadly the diner is going to get robbed. You, the heroic detective, are going to be caught in the crossfire. It will all be over by the time the waitress comes back from her smoke break. This”—he held out the St. Michael medal—“will be back around your neck, and Rodriguez can think whatever he likes.”

Dan hung his head. A robbery gone wrong. That he should die the way John Decker did, after he’d arranged for John Decker’s killer to die, was that some sort of karmic justice? Was that the way the world worked? Maybe he should’ve asked Amenadiel.

* * *

Lucifer spotted James’ cruiser before she did. It was parked behind yet another row of warehouses. He wasn’t, however, alone. Two SUVs and a box truck were parked near a ramp pushed up to the loading dock at one of the warehouses. It was open, faint light spilling out. Chloe decided to roll by like any passing traffic, hoping James either wasn’t looking or wouldn’t recognize her car.

“What are you…?”

“Taking the block.” She made the next three lefts and cut her headlights as she inched forward and put her car in park at the far end of the group of five warehouses.

Several men were pushing handcarts stacked with boxes from the truck up the ramp. Chloe counted six and, despite the low light, was reasonably sure one of them was Gavin James.

She pointed him out. “I’m pretty sure—”

“It is.” She could nearly feel him simmering next to her, but he continued: “I hardly see that berk offering manual labor to the Port’s tenants out of the kindness of his chummy little heart.”

“No,” Chloe agreed.

“So what has our erstwhile dock cop got himself into, hmmm? Thievery? Smuggling?”

“It looks like it. Lucifer, what—?”

But his attention was focused on James like a hound on the scent. “Something like what our hapless stevedore stumbled upon when he sought to retrieve his mislaid tools.”

Chloe had to agree. “Knocked him out and took him far from the Port to get rid of him.” Wiśniewski’s body had had bruising along his jaw and wrists. “We can certainly bring him in for questioning about _this_ and use the opportunity to interrogate him about the murder.”

“I really couldn’t care about whatever _this_ is. But I will not play nice with this murderous maggot. No bringing him to the station for a chat. He _will_ be punished. And now.”

Chloe swallowed. She wouldn’t lie to herself and pretend that she didn’t know that was what he wanted when she’d agree to come.

He took her silence as some kind of answer. “Maybe you should leave. You…don’t have to be here for this. I know you can’t want to.”

But she shook her head. She would face this head on. “What is it you want to do, Lucifer?”

That brought him up short. “I…” He was barely more than a silhouette in the darkness, but she could just make out the sharp downward turn of his lips and the set of his jaw, and she saw his brows draw together. His gaze flickered back to the warehouse. “I want him to know fear and horror. I want him to _know_ he’s damned. I want to show him.”

He stared across the parking lot at the small figures moving behind the warehouse, the crimson glow of his eyes bright in the darkness of the car. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Could she do this? Could she condone this? She thought of Jimmy Barnes banging his head against the window until it left bright red smears against the plexiglass. She thought of Benny Choi and Lindsay Jolson and Jeremy Bell. Burt who had played a role in her near-death by poisoning. Cowering or screaming or sobbing.

And yet…each had been a monster in his or her own way. And wasn’t it, like, Lucifer’s God-given _job_ to punish? Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. It had been sitting in a car like this, very early on, when she’d told him she believed in good and evil even though she didn’t believe in God and the Devil and the rest. She’d been wrong on half, but she didn’t think she was wrong about the rest. She didn’t—

“Dete—Chloe?”

“And, you… _we_ would be sure first, yes?”

His answer was quick. “Aren’t you?”

“I-I am. But I’ve been wrong before, Lucifer, and so have you. And the evidence _is_ circumstantial. Would we be sure first?”

His expression in the darkness was strange, and she didn’t know what he was thinking. His eyes continued to burn until one moment they didn’t.

“I wouldn’t if I wasn’t.”

She nodded again. When had her heart started beating so fast? She focused ahead of her. The men were wrapping up and getting in their vehicles, except James who was pulling the ramp back into the warehouse. “They’re leaving.”

A passing headlight flashed across one of the men’s faces as he climbed into one of the SUVs. Chloe could’ve sworn she recognized him, but she couldn’t place where—

His voice brought her out of her musings. “Shall we then?”

* * *

As soon as the two SUVs and the box truck were driven away, Lucifer was easing his door open. He watched James disappear into the warehouse. The desire to punish this man was stronger than he’d felt in a long, long time. The satisfaction of knowing he would do so was sweet in his veins.

He glanced back once to see if Chloe was with him. She’d unholstered her gun and was moving quietly in the night. She moved more cautiously, as was her wont.

He took the eight steps up the loading dock in three long strides. And there was his murderer, leaning the loading ramp against a wall. Catching the red-orange flash of his own eyes in reflection in the burnished aluminum of the ramp, he tamped down on them. He would be sure.

Yet, James must have seen something, for he jumped up and whipped around. Wariness and then confusion lit his features.

“M-Mr. Morningstar. What are you… What can I help you with?” He licked his upper lip and gathered himself, offering a friendly smile. “Do we have another lead? Let me just finish here, and I’ll help—”

Lucifer’s expression did not change, and the smile he gave in return was predatory. “Finish here. What are you doing here, my _dear_ officer?”

James’ eye flickered in fear and doubt. Lucifer could almost taste it.

“I-I offered to help one of our tenants out.” He shrugged as if it was nothing. “Slow night.”

“Slow night?” Lucifer asked in disbelief. In his experience, most murderers were liars. It didn’t lessen his disgust.

“Yeah, I—” James’ eyes flickered over Lucifer’s shoulder.

Lucifer followed his gaze. The Detective stood at the top of the steps. His eyes found James again in time to see realization sweep over him as he processed the gun in Chloe’s hand. His hand twitched toward his own weapon holstered at his side.

“Don’t move.” Chloe’s voice from over his shoulder was commanding.

Hardly the time to be admiring her tone, but Lucifer couldn’t help but appreciate—

“Hey,” James said, raising his hands, “I don’t know what’s going on here, but—”

“I want you to detach your holster and place it on the ground.”

“Sure.” James held his hands up to indicate his cooperation. “Whatever you say. I’m sure we can sort out this misunderstanding.”

When he laid the weapon on the ground, Chloe gestured to his left. “Step away.”

He complied, leaning against a stack of boxes like he didn’t have a gun pointed his way.

“Look, you can’t hold a little moonlighting against me, can you? You know how little we make. So I provide a little labor on work hours. That’s nothing compared to what some cops do on the clock.”

He was an accomplished liar. Lucifer glanced at Chloe, unsure if she would buy this nonsense. Her gun was still raised, and, when she met his eyes, she gave a small shake of her head. Good. Good, the Detective had excellent inst—

Lucifer whipped back around in time to see James hurling a crowbar at Chloe. He leapt to her side to pull her clear. Her body crashed against his, and the metal bar clanked harmlessly along the concrete floor past them. Rage burned in Lucifer. This bell end dared try to hurt _his_ …tried to hurt Chloe? He’d tear him—

“Don’t move.”

He felt Chloe’s abortive effort to raise her gun at his side, as he turned to see James had pulled a second gun. He lifted his hands acknowledging the move, plastering on a grin he knew could be unsettling to hide his uncertainty. He took a careful step forward, so they would present separate targets.

“I said don’t move.”

Lucifer was pleased to see the gun was focused on him and not Chloe. “Your job was to protect, and yet you murdered a man for the misfortune of stumbling onto your petty”—Lucifer gestured to the stacked boxes—“activities.”

“He shouldn’t have been there. But once he saw…well, what could I do? I wasn’t going to jail for a bit of bad luck.”

“What was in the warehouse?” Chloe spoke from behind Lucifer.

“Guns. He knew what he’d seen.”

“So, you twat, you killed an unlucky man rather than face the human penalties for your crimes? How…short-sighted of you.” Lucifer took another step forward.

The gun came up, but Lucifer paid it no mind.

“You foolish humans just don’t understand the consequences of your actions. But that’s why I’m here. Killing for such _petty_ reasons.” Another step.

“Stop. I will kill the both of you, too.” James held out his free hand as if in offering. “Or maybe we can work out a deal.”

“Wrong choice of words,” Lucifer said with a growl, knowing his eyes were flashing red.

“Jesus,” James squeaked, flinching in horror.

His gun drifted with his sudden fear, and Lucifer took the opportunity to move in. James rallied, and the gun went off. Lucifer felt an annoying burn of pain along his left bicep. He showed James his teeth.

“Poor decision.”

With that, he was on the fraudulent officer. Wrapping his fingers under his chin, he lifted him up, watching his limbs swinging, feeling the throat move in desperate swallows under his hand. He heard, more than saw, the Detective approach from the right.

“Adding desecration of Armani to you sins?”

He could feel the fear rolling off the miscreant, and all he’d shown him was his eyes. He was going to enjoy this.

Lucifer focused his attention on James and let his Devil face out to play. The first flinch was extremely satisfying, and he brought his focus to bear, intensifying the effect. The pathetic screams of terror echoed around the warehouse.

“You see, _Officer_ James, there are far worse things than a little jail time.”

A part of him…a part of him wanted to push further. Punish the murderer masquerading as an officer of the law as he would have done in Hell. His fingers twitched, and he was ready to bring the full force of his Devil face down on him. Push until his mind snapped. Except. Except…that wasn’t who he wanted to be here.

He glanced to his side. Chloe watched him, her expression, to his surprise, painted with calm and acceptance. She made no attempt to rein him in.

Lucifer stopped, dropping James to the ground. He fell like a sack of potatoes, before curling up in a quivering ball.

Chloe moved to cuff him. Lucifer watched her, uncertain. When she looked up at him, she raised her eyebrows in question.

He cleared his throat. “You were right. I’m not him. We’re nothing alike.”

Her smile at him then, with her knee in their suspect’s back, was one he would treasure always. She nodded at him as if to say, ‘of course.’

* * *

Dan watched Gray-hair and groaned wearily. It felt like the game had already been played out.

Graves ended a call. “Mulvaney will be here in five minutes. You sure he’s up for this?”

The gray-haired boss smiled. “Don’t underestimate him. He’s not _quite_ as dumb as he looks, and there is very little he won’t do. Especially now that it's personal.”

Dan hung his head, out of ideas. It seemed like moments later when Mulvaney entered the living room where he was being held. His partner gave him a disgusted sneer.

“Mulvaney. Everything’s set. Knock him back out,” Graves said, nodding Dan’s way, “and we’ll put him in your car.”

This was it, Dan realized. He might not wake up. No chance to make this right. No chance to _live_.

“Oh, and put this back on him when he’s out.”

Dan watched the Saint Michael pendant fly through the air.

Patron saint of police officers. Was that a real thing? Apparently God was a real thing. Dan began to pray. Desperately. Unfamiliarly. It had been _so_ long.

_Please, God, please. I don’t want to die. I want a chance to make things right. I want to be there for my daughter. Please help me. Please. I’m so sorry. I should’ve been better. I should’ve…I’m sorry, Trixie. I’m sorry, Charlotte. I’m—_

Mulvaney thwacked him on the back of his head. “Time’s up, Espinoza.”

Fuck, but when did God intervene? But Dan…Dan…Dan knew the Devil himself. He closed his eyes and prayed to him instead.

His partner grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. “Pathetic. Face it like a man.”

Dan kept his eyes closed tight, praying for all he was worth, which, perhaps, was not much. But it wasn’t nothing.

* * *

Lucifer walked to the edge of the loading dock and patted his pockets until he found his cigarettes. He could hear Chloe talking to dispatch behind him. His lighter flared in his fingers, and his ciggy caught. He pulled the smoke into his lungs, feeling strangely light. He looked up at the few stars he could see in the L.A. night.

Closing his eyes, he drew in another lungful of smoke. A feeling played at the edge of his consciousness. A familiar but long faded sensation. His eyes flew open and he choked on the smoke he exhaled in a rush. Prayer. Prayer with belief and intent. Prayer to the Devil with belief and intent.

 _Lucifer. Lucifer. Please, Lucifer. I don’t want to die, man_.

A voice he recognized. Daniel. Lucifer concentrated on the prayer. Felt it coming from a short distance away—no more than thirty miles. A flash of men and guns and fear. A sharp spike of desperation.

The cigarette fell from his fingers. The wings…he could get there if… The wings he didn’t know were still there. If he’d dreaded the answer before, now he was petrified. He closed his eyes and reached…summoned…and there…there…there. He moved his shoulders in a roll as natural as breathing and they were _here_.

 _His_ wings.

He only had a moment to process the gasp behind him before he was away.

And he was in some kind of drab, filthy suburban home. A man grasped Daniel by the arm, trying to pull him to his feet. Daniel’s face was tear stained and desperate, his eyes screwed tight. No, that wouldn’t do. Lucifer plucked the man from Daniel and sent him crashing into the olive wall.

Other men were yelling now, and Daniel was scrambling back out of the way.

Daniel’s eyes were open wide now, staring at Lucifer, until his gaze shot over his shoulder. Lucifer turned his head. Another man—sandy-haired, middle aged, and wearing a heinous off-the-rack suit—was charging at him. Lucifer stepped aside and caught him by the throat. He heard the gunshots at the same time he felt their thump on his back. He caught Daniel’s flinch from the corner of his vision.

Glancing over his shoulder, he assessed the new holes in the cloth. “Bloody suit was already ruined,” he muttered. He tossed the man struggling in his grip at the gray-haired man staring at him in shock, still holding his ineffectual gun. They crashed together and fell in an unmoving heap.

Lucifer crouched by the unconscious form of the man he’d pulled off Daniel. He’d looked familiar. Rolling him over, he recognized the face. Daniel’s partner.

He was surprised by the wave of disappointment that rose up from his gut. He turned his head to look at the man he’d just saved. “Well, well, Daniel. Back to old habits? I thought you were beyond this sort of thing. How disappointing.”

“It’s not what you think.” Dan’s eyes were stuck on the bullet holes in his clothes.

“Really, Daniel? What have you gotten yourself into, then?”

“I—Really. I’m undercover. Or at least I was. Getting into this ring of corrupt cops. Working with IA. Detective Rodriguez—”

Lucifer turned to look more closely at Daniel. He remembered Detective Rodriguez, certainly.

“And these tossers?”

“I was supposed to be getting on the inside, but they found me out. They—they were going to kill me. Make it look like a random crime. That’s why I-I—”

“Prayed? Didn’t know you had it in you, Daniel.” He reached out, resting a hand on the cuffs that bound his wrists. He could tell Daniel was forcing himself not to flinch, and he appreciated the effort. The bindings fell away. “So what are we doing here with these…?”

“I don’t have hard evidence against them other than my word that they were going to, going to…” He swallowed. “They said they were going to kill me.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “Would a confession do?”

Dan blinked. “Yeah…yeah it would.”

Lucifer grinned, pleased to help in this. He pulled the gray-haired man up by the collar of his shirt. “Hey there.” He gave him a shake. “Wakey-wakey.”

“What…? Let me go. I’m a Captain with the LAPD. You’re making a mistake.”

Lucifer cocked his head, considering the man’s words. “I don’t think so. Captain….?”

“J-Johnson. Ray Johnson.”

“Okay, _Captain_ Johnson. Why don’t you tell us what you are doing here?” Lucifer let his eyes flash, just briefly.

Johnson squealed and sputtered. “Please, please. Oh, God, please!”

“Wrong deity,” Lucifer growled. “Now, I’ll ask again. What are you doing here?”

“I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry. We’ve been stealing, smuggling, just taking a little here and there…I…just… _What do you want?_ ”

Lucifer held Johnson above the ground while the man squirmed. He could feel Daniel’s eyes on him, but he refused to feel ashamed. Not today. “What do I want?” Lucifer asked. “I want you tell us _everything_. Who else you work with. _All_ about what you were planning here. What were you planning for Detective Espinoza?”

He shook his head, resisting, so Lucifer let him see more. Let his face change. He could feel Daniel’s fear behind him, but the other man did not flee.

Johnson lost whatever internal battle he was having and his words began to flow. Names—too many—nearly a dozen. A robbery gone wrong for Daniel. Lucifer let his face fade. When Johnson ran out of words, he cried quietly. Lucifer set him down, almost softly. He didn’t want to damage Daniel’s witness.

“I’m sure he’ll tell the same story to Detective Rodriguez.” He grinned at Johnson. “Or, if not…”

The cowering captain nodded.

Daniel shook himself free of the moment, moving to secure the unconscious men and then Johnson. Lucifer watched, curious to see how Daniel would react next.

He glanced up from cuffing Johnson. “You know, you can be pretty scary, man.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “Practice.”

Dan threw his hands up. “Whatever. Just...thanks, man.”

* * *

Dan collapsed onto a battered, beige couch as the adrenaline ran out of him. He looked down at his shaking hands. God, he’d been so stupid. He pulled in several slow breaths, trying to calm himself. When he glanced up, he saw Lucifer answering a call.

“Yes. Yes, everything is fine. Just Daniel. Found himself in a spot of trouble. All sorted now.” A pause. “Yes, I understand, we’ll talk about it later.” Another pause followed by a pleased smile. “Gorgeous, yes, I know.” He ended the call and turned an appraising eye on Dan. Whatever he saw made him frown.

Lucifer eyed the dirty seat to Dan’s left as if it might bite him if he approached, but he nonetheless settled primly next to him. He heard Lucifer take a breath, but, for once, he didn’t speak. The room was silent except for the occasional whimper from Johnson.

“What—what did you do to him?”

“Just gave him a taste of what waits for him.”

Dan thought he could feel his Adam’s apple move up and down as he swallowed. _What was waiting for him_. Oh he knew. _He knew_.

“Daniel? Are you quite alright?”

“N-not really.” He worried at the knuckle of his left thumb with his right hand, pressing harder and harder with each pass. “Ever since…ever since that day at the precinct, in the supply room, when I saw… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about…thinking about Hell. Thinking about how I’m…” He swallowed thickly. The next words were the hardest to get out. “I think I’m going.”

“Ah.”

Dan could almost feel Lucifer’s studying gaze, although he didn’t look up from his hands.

“It can have that effect, sometimes, even when I’m not actively…” His words trailed off. “If you felt that way, you must feel terribly guilty about something.”

Dan forced himself to continue. “Some stuff I did before I met you; more from before I met Chloe. Some more recent stuff. And…I…Maze and I…did something…”

“Oh, _do_ tell? While Maze is an absolute _demon_ in the sack, I promise you you aren’t going to Hell for that.”

A hysterical laugh bubbled up. Of course that’s where Lucifer’s mind went. “Ugh, no, nothing like that.” Somehow the ridiculousness made it easier to get the next part out. “We—after Warden Smith was acquitted—we told the Russian mob that he killed their fixer Boris, so they would kill him.”

“I see. That’s certainly not good, Daniel.” Lucifer drummed his fingers on his thigh, half-a-tic, but Dan got the impression he was anxious for him. He continued: “But, perhaps, it’s not too late. Charlotte—”

“I know. Charlotte changed her whole life, and now I understand why.”

“Hmmmm. Is that what you were trying to do here?”

Dan looked up to meet Lucifer’s eyes at last and found no hint of smirk or scorn. “Yeah. Yeah, man. I thought I might be able to…redeem myself, I guess, if I could bring down this ring of corrupt cops.”

Lucifer’s brow rose. “Like the Weaponizer in _The Last Arsenal_?"

Dan laughed, a little steadier this time. “Yeah…just like that. Except without the hot wife and the…the hot girlfriend.” And there it was. Terrified _and_ alone.

“Or the hot car,” Lucifer added. “But, Daniel, it would be incredibly shortsighted to get yourself killed before you figure _this_ ”—he flapped his hand at Dan as if _damnation_ was a bad fashion choice—“out.”

“I think I realized that just about the same moment I realized I probably was going to die.” Dan held his hands up. “Useful timing, right?”

“Better late than never, I suppose. Perhaps…consider _slightly_ smaller efforts in the future? I do believe the urchin, at least, would miss you. Miss Lopez, too. Maybe you need to decide what kind of person you want to be, like dear Charlotte did. Dr. Linda was telling me recently that one doesn’t have to be defined by a bad choice, and I’m coming to think maybe she was right.”

“I-that’s actually good advice.”

“Of course it is! I pay her enough for it.” He tilted his head. “Haven’t you talked to my brother?”

Dan gave a hard negative shake of his head.

“Why ever not?”

“I-I can’t. I…how can I explain?”

“You’re ashamed,” Lucifer noted. “My brother has made mistakes. Some serious ones. Ones that have gotten people hurt and killed.”

Dan stared at him, disbelieving, even though he knew Lucifer didn’t lie.

“You should talk to him. He knows more about redemption than you think.” Lucifer looked away, then. “More than me, at any rate.”

“I don’t know about that. You don’t seem so bad to me. For the Devil that steals my pudding, at any rate.” He smiled to take any sting out of his words.

Lucifer huffed and fussed with his cufflink. “When _will_ Detective Rodriguez be getting here? I don’t have all night.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Obliobla for the beta read!

Chloe awoke at eight even though she’d only laid her head on her pillow a little after four in the morning the night before. She heard voices coming from the kitchen. A masculine rumble she immediately identified as Lucifer. And…Maze, who Chloe’d left sleeping on the couch when she’d gotten in. Ah, and there was her daughter’s excited squeal.

While a part of her wanted to linger in bed—and it didn’t actually sound like Lucifer and Maze were trying to kill one another—she nonetheless shoved the covers down and swung her feet to the floor with a groan.

After Lucifer’s dramatic disappearance, she’d been left to wait for backup. She’d overseen a search and the impounding of Officer James’ cruiser. The forensic tech took samples from the trunk he hoped to match to Aaron Wiśniewski. Chloe didn’t believe it would be necessary. James seemed positively eager to unburden himself. The arrest of a law enforcement officer for murder necessitated a call to her Lieutenant. After a few sharp questions, he informed her he had far bigger concerns that night.

She’d reached Lucifer by phone again after that. He was still with Dan. “Sorry, love, apparently Detective Rodriguez has a few questions. Oh, and here’s Lieutenant Robinson, too.” Hyper. She’d demanded to know what was going on, and when his answer made too little sense, she in turn demanded he put Dan on the phone. Her ex had sheepishly explained an undercover assignment and the arrest of a group of LAPD officers. She wasn’t sure why he wasn’t more enthusiastic but offered her congratulations anyway.

Even after she was home, Chloe’s mind kept buzzing with everything that had happened that day. She’d struggled to find sleep and wished Lucifer had been there to talk to.

Now, her eyes felt gritty with too little sleep. She scrubbed her hands across her face and then ran her fingers through her hair before pulling it into a loose ponytail. It was stupid, she thought, but she threw on some light makeup after she pulled on comfortable clothes.

Lucifer turned just as she started down the stairs, and his face split into a broad smile of pleasure when he saw her. One that reached his eyes. A smile she’d missed recently. She felt herself returning it before she even had time to process it.

“Pancakes, darling?”

Taking him in, she made her way into the kitchen. His jacket was draped over a chair back, his sleeves were rolled up, and he wore a chef’s apron, one she didn’t recognize, so he must have brought it with him. Of course he did. Along with most of the ingredients. She saw eggs, bacon, pancakes, and a spread of toppings. Three types of macerated fruit, real whipped cream, chocolate syrup and chocolate chips.

“You’ve been busy.”

“Mmmmm. It’s a lovely morning, and I thought you could use a good breakfast after a late night.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers briefly before returning to flipping pancakes.

Trixie giggled.

Chloe blinked. She’d talked to Trixie about her and Lucifer, but they hadn’t…

Her daughter rolled her eyes at her. “I know you’re dating, and I _know_ people who are dating kiss. I’m almost ten.”

“Of course, monkey.” Chloe took a seat on her stool and watched as her daughter loaded a pancake with toppings and as Lucifer worked. She could barely contain her yawns, and he looked perfectly rested and cheerful even though she knew he must’ve gotten even less sleep than she had. In fact, as she scrutinized him, she thought he looked _lighter_ , more relaxed then he had a long, long time. Certainly since Pierce. Probably a lot longer.

Lucifer presented her with coffee with a grin and a flourish. His glee was infectious and she beamed back.

While Chloe daydreamed, Maze grabbed the next plate of pancakes when they were ready and loaded them with all of the toppings at once.

“You two…?” Chloe glanced between her and Lucifer.

“Talked earlier,” he confirmed from the stove. “Came to an understanding.”

Maze rolled her eyes at “talked” but nodded at the end. “Yeah,” she said around a mouthful of pancake, eyeing Chloe. “What about us? We good now, Decker?”

Linda was right—knowing these Celestials was anything but simple, but she did want Maze in her life. Plus she couldn’t exactly call her to babysit and hold a grudge against her, too. “Yes, we’re good. Just…next time maybe—”

“Yeah, yeah, Linda talked _all_ about that. I got it.”

Chloe snatched the next batch of pancakes before Trixie or Maze had a chance to steal them for seconds. Lucifer finished cooking and joined the three of them at the island. For a little while, the four of them ate, and Chloe savored the moment. It was peaceful. Relatively. Neither the demon nor then ten-year-old were particularly quiet eaters.

Maze stood as soon as she was done. “Later, Chlo. I have places to be.” But she hesitated before she left. “See you soon, little human?”

Trixie waved. “Bye, Maze.” She finished her pancakes, making lip smacking noises, fruit and syrup smeared on her face.

“Make sure to thank Lucifer, sweetie,” she reminded.

“Thank you, Lucifer,” Trixie sang, moving to hug him.

“Ah,” he said, stepping back and holding up a finger to forestall her.

Chloe laughed. For once, Trixie was, in fact, sticky. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and dressed.”

After Trixie ran off, Chloe picked up her plate and the one Maze had left on the table and carried them to the sink. Lucifer joined her with the other plates. Before she could turn on the water, he pulled her closer to him, kissing her hair.

“Thank you,” she said, nodding toward the remains of breakfast spread around her kitchen.

“No thanks needed. I’m feeling particularly beneficent this morning.”

He began sweeping up the dishes, humming under his breath, some melody she almost recognized, as he bounced around her kitchen.

“You’re in a good mood,” Chloe observed once he’d put everything in the fridge.

“I am. I had a bit of an epiphany, you see. In a conversation with Daniel, of all people.” He shook his head as if it was the most absurd thing that had ever happened to him.

“That right?”

“Yeah.” He took her in his arms and gazed down at her. “Some perspective, as Dr. Linda would say. That if even a sometimes-douche like Daniel can make an effort, so can I. That perhaps we can choose to be better than our worst choices.” He untied the apron and folded it neatly. “Which means”—he paused for drama—“I probably should have listened to you about what happened in the loft from the start.”

It was Chloe’s turn to snort. “You wouldn’t be you if you did that. You have to do things the hard way.” She reached a hand up to caress his face. “You know, one of the things I love about you is your willingness to consider and learn and grow. I admire it. Not everyone is so open to that.”

He opened his mouth, and she could tell he was about to make light of her words. She leaned up and kissed him instead. She felt his lips stretching into a smile under hers, and she pulled back.

He tilted his head at her, eyes twinkling. “You do that a lot, you know.”

“What?”

“Kiss me when you want me to shut up.”

“I do not!”

“I don’t know if I’m lucky or unlucky you didn’t figure that out earlier in our partnership.” A shit-eating grin was starting to break out on his face.

“Shut up,” she said, and kissed him again.

He took a step forward, and her back hit the island behind her. The kiss that had been playful turned into something else as he teased past her lips to slide his tongue against hers. The length of his body pressed against her, and, with a groan, she pressed back. Her hands found the backs of his elbows for purchase. His arms were still wrapped around her, and he let one hand wander up to rest spread across her back while the other wandered down to squeeze and pull her against him. She shifted again to get closer as heat flooded her veins. It had only been a week, but it had been far too long…

She heard the door to Trixie’s room slide open, and she gave Lucifer’s arm a frantic pat until he stepped away.

“What? She ‘knows people who are dating kiss,’” he imitated. “She’s ‘almost ten.’”

With a short laugh, Chloe turned to look for Trixie, filing away a conversation about boundaries and children. Trixie had her backpack slung over her shoulder, overstuffed, with the sleeve of a shirt hanging out where it was zipped.

“What’s that, honey?”

“Dad’s picking me up, remember?”

“Oh, sweetie, your dad had a late night last night. Let me make sure—”

But just then there was a knock at the door. Chloe moved to answer but Trixie dashed ahead of her and let her dad in.

“Hey, Chlo…” Chloe saw Dan’s gaze flicker between her and Lucifer, and she could tell the conclusion he’d drawn. And he wasn’t wrong, even if Lucifer would’ve (and had) broken in just like this _before_. “Lucifer…”

She stepped closer and spoke quietly. “Dan, is today still good? Because if it’s not, I—”

“No, it is.” He nodded and a hint of a smile broke through. “It really is.” He knelt down by Trixie. “Hey, sweetie, you have everything you need?”

“Yup. Can we go to the zoo today?”

“Sure, that sounds just perfect.” Dan hefted her up onto his hip, even though she was just a little bit too big now for that.

Trixie squealed in delight at the unexpected lift. “See ya, Mom. See ya, Lucifer.”

After the door shut, Chloe turned back to find Lucifer had moved into her space again.

“Alone at last—”

Just then Chloe broke into a huge yawn.

“Didn’t realize I was boring you.”

“Sorry, sorry. You aren’t. Not at all.” She tried for a flirtatious smile.

“Looks like I have my work cut out for me.”

How he could put so much heat into a single look, she didn’t know. But the warmth she’d been feeling in the kitchen a few minutes earlier returned full force.

“Better get to it then,” she teased.

His eyebrows rose, but his smile fell somewhere between pleased and sly. The next thing she knew, he’d scooped her up, one arm under her knees and the other at her back, and was carrying her up the stairs.

“Hey!” she yelped, throwing an arm around his shoulders to steady herself.

He was making a habit of doing this, picking her up like she weighed nothing. Him and his ridiculous, casual strength. Why that particular thought sent heat between her legs, she didn’t know. Then he was turning toward her bedroom, and it occurred to her they’d only been together at his place. She felt a brief flare of panic at the state of her room: the basket of unfolded laundry, the clutter on her dresser, and…when had she lasted changed her sheets…Monday maybe? Maybe she should stop and change them first…

Lucifer tossed her on the mattress and she bounced, an unexpected laugh escaping. He shucked his shirt and climbed onto the bed, crawling toward her, hips swaying, like a big cat stalking. Part of her wanted to laugh—it was cheesy—but holy crap it was also sexy as hell. She shifted to watch him as he climbed over her. He grinned down when his face was just above her own. Damn, he was in a good mood.

She waited for him to kiss her, but he just gave her a quick peck on the lips before reaching for the hem of her sweatshirt. It was an LAPD one she’d washed so many times it read more as an ill-spaced I A I. She helped him pull it off, and, when her head popped free, she caught him taking in her lack of bra with appreciation.

But then he snapped his fingers. “Wait, I forgot something downstairs.”

Her brow furrowed, and he caressed it with his thumb.

“Just wait, darling.”

She sighed, watching the muscles move in his retreating back, before letting her head fall back on the pillow.

It was only moments later he was back with the rest of the bowl of whipped cream and a rubber spatula. “I think I’m going to call this little entertainment…'Care for some whipped Detective?'”

“Lucifer!” She was definitely going to have to change her sheets.

* * *

A huge yawn escaped Chloe as the hot water cascaded over her. Shaking herself out of her stupor, she grabbed a wash cloth. She was _not_ going to fall asleep in the shower. She finished cleaning herself up sleepily, enjoying the occasional pull in her sore muscles. Toweling off, she stepped out of the shower. A sea-blue tank top and heather sweatpants waited neatly folded on the counter. She let her hand rest on the soft fabric for a moment. He could be so considerate when he wasn’t driving her crazy.

In the fogged mirror, she caught a couple of the red marks left by the spatula on her hip, and laughed before breaking into another yawn. Pulling the PJs on, she made her way back to the bedroom. She gasped when she opened the door, caught between laughter and an impossibly tender feeling. He was lounging on top of her bed—he’d changed the sheets and made it up—hair still damp and wearing one of her robes. It was too small and ridiculous and somehow he made it unbelievably sexy.

She climbed onto the bed and curled into his side, nestling against his chest, letting her hand slide under the robe and around him. She was disappointed to see the red spatula marks _she’d_ left there were already beginning to fade.

“Sleep?” she asked even though she knew that was the message of the PJs left on the counter.

“I wouldn’t keep you from it any longer, my sleepy shnoodle-bum.”

“No.”

“No?”

“To ‘shnoodle-bum.’ Uh uh.”

“Snickerdoodle? Snookums?” He stroked her hair. “Snuggle-bunny?”

She yawned breathing in his clean scent beneath the smell of her soap. “We’ll talk about it later,” she murmured.

As she drifted off to sleep, she heard him saying, “Sugar-britches it is then.”

* * *

It was late afternoon light that peeked in through Chloe’s small bedroom window as she lay tangled with Lucifer, quizzing him about the night before.

“So how did you know Dan was in trouble?”

“He _prayed_ to me, if you can believe that. Came up with that all on his own. But that’s Daniel for you. Just when you think he’s a complete numpty, he surprises you.”

“You can hear prayers, then? Like if I wanted to ask you to pick up milk on the way over here, I could just…?”

“Ugh, please don’t. They’re rather distracting and hard to block out, you know. But, yes, if someone prays with belief and intent, I can hear them. It’s been a long time. Even your avid play-at-home Satanists don’t usually have _true_ belief, thank Dad.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll leave the praying for special occasions and emergencies.” She immediately closed her eyes and concentrated… _testing, 1 2 3._

“Hey!”

“Just making sure it works.”

He grabbed her and pulled her into his arms, kissing her breathless. She concentrated again. _I love you._

The way he clutched her tighter and the little desperate whine that rose up in his throat and spilled into her mouth told her that her message had been received. When they broke apart, he cradled her face in his hands.

“Chloe, I…” His eyes were bright and full. He lowered his head and kissed her again, this time tender and soft.

They lay quietly together for several moments, just looking at each other, before she continued.

“So you heard Dan’s prayer, and you _flew_ to rescue him.”

“That’s right. How else would I have gotten to Anaheim in time?”

“Can I see them? Your wings, I mean? I didn’t get a very good look when you”—she flapped her hand at him—“flew off.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Show-and-tell, darling?”

But he was already climbing out of bed and, after giving it a considering glance, stripping off her robe. He made a show of making space. When he cleared his throat, she realized her eyes had drifted…lower. She sent him an innocent smile as she focused on his face.

“Right, then.” He gave his shoulders a roll and glowing white spilled out on either side of him.

They went on and on, pristine and perfect, rising and falling with his breathing. He was waiting for her reaction, she realized.

“Are they heavy?” They were huge.

He looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Of course not! They’re angel wings.” He cocked his head. “And you’re fine? No sudden urges to worship or spells of covetousness?”

She shook her head. “Lucifer, they’re pretty, but—”

“Pretty? You said gorgeous on the phone.” _Someone_ help her, that was a pout.

“They’re _gorgeous_ , but no. I’m no more—and no less—besotted than I was a moment ago.”

He shrugged again, and the wings folded in and disappeared. She was more than a little sorry to see them go.

“My powers, my face, my wings. You seem unaffected by them all.”

Convenient, that, whatever its purpose. But she hid her frown. “I wouldn’t say…unaffected.” She caught his hand and drew him back into bed.

“Oh, fancy them do you?”

He settled next to her again, wrapping one long arm around her shoulders. The mattress dipped under his weight, causing her to roll against his side.

She was suddenly struck by an image. “Can you…can you have both your Devil face and your wings at the same time?”

He shifted a little, propping his head on his hand as looked at her, thoughtful. “I…don’t know. I’ve never tried.”

“Really?” That surprised her. All that time—millennia by his account—and he’d never thought to try?

“Understand, the wings…the wings are how I was created. A literal gift from my Father, glowing with His light and everything. Although I-I returned them to myself recently.” His fingers twitched, settling on fidgeting with the ends of her hair. “My Devil face, however…” He blew out a breath and was looking inward, pained, and, while she hoped he would continue, she didn’t press. “My Devil face was born of a long-ago self-hatred, from just after my Fall.” His expression tightened with his distress.

“Oh, Lucifer.” She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her cheek above his heart. It hurt thinking about how much one would have to hate oneself to literally change one’s face—and she knew he thought of that face as a monster’s. “Do you—” She hesitated. “Do you still feel that way?”

“I don’t know,” he said, but his arms tightened around her and she could feel his hands shaking. “I thought I had come to some acceptance of what happened way back then. But then it—my face—went away earlier this year. And, of course, it’s back now. I suppose that’s quite literally proof that I’m not over it.”

She considered his words, gently stoking the smooth skin of his chest. “Perhaps…It’s something that was a part of you for a very long time. Perhaps it became something more than an expression of your…guilt.”

He shifted under her, and she turned to look up. He’d raised himself up on his elbows and forearms and was looking at her intently.

“What do you mean?” It was barely a whisper.

She leaned her head on one hand as she studied him, drawing the fingers of her other hand along his neat stubble, thinking of his other face. “You told me the other day that you _like_ being a punisher. That it’s part of who you are, even if it started out as a sentence.” She couldn’t judge his expression, but he was listening. “In a way, it’s like me being a cop. I started because I had a vague idea about helping people and honoring my dad, but actually doing this job day in and day out has shaped who I am as a person. Likewise, who I am as a person has shaped _how_ I am a cop.”

“What are you saying?”

“Maybe you gave yourself that face, like you said, because you felt like a monster. But maybe since then you made it part of yourself, and it doesn’t have to represent what it once did.”

“You don’t find it monstrous.” It was half a question, and she knew he wasn’t just talking about this conversation.

Her answer was honest even if its scared her a little. “I don’t.”

“I still find that hard to believe.” He scoffed, but softened it by running a hand through her hair. “And you’re the most bizarrely accepting person I’ve ever met.”

“Don’t say that.” Her tone was too sharp, and he frowned. “Anyway, it’s about whether you can accept yourself,” she deflected. Smiling up at him, she tried to put all the warmth she felt for him into her eyes. “And, for what it’s worth, I think you should.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go! Oh my! Yet again, my great thanks to @obliobla for the beta work.

Chloe’s next week passed quickly. Work brought a new case on Tuesday. It was, as Lucifer would say, capital-B Boring. The case turned out to be an open-and-shut domestic murder. They made the arrest by Thursday morning.

Much to Chloe’s surprise, Lucifer’d stayed by her side throughout, for once. Outside of work, he’d spent a couple of nights at her place. A monopoly rematch—a real one this time. And they’d gone out the night Trixie had her skating lesson. All so normal, except not, because Lucifer was Lucifer.

For some stupid reason, Chloe found herself waiting for the other shoe to drop. She told herself it was stupid to question so much happiness after such a long road. And she certainly didn’t want to rain on Lucifer’s parade. His buoyant mood seemed to rub off on the entire precinct. Even Ella noticed his renewed joie de vivre, as he lingered after the arrest.

“Good to have you back, Lucifer.” She held out her hand for a high five.

His brows drew together. “Back? Where had I gone?”

“You tell me, dude, you tell me.” She drew out her words with a bemused shake of her head.

Chloe hid her smile at Lucifer’s confusion and continued returning the evidence they’d laid out on the conference room table to the proper boxes.

Dan ducked his head in through the door. “Ella, you can call off that trace on our suspect for the Venice shooting. Maze just brought him in.” He nodded out to the precinct floor.

The bounty hunter was tossing a muscular man, one who had at least six inches on her, at the feet of a surprised officer. Maze rocked back on her heels and crossed her arms, looking both bored and underwhelmed while the officer scrambled to secure the prisoner.

Lucifer smirked. “Pardon me. I need to discuss a small matter with Mazikeen. Outside the LAPD’s jurisdiction, not to worry.” If his pantomime of innocence was supposed to be reassuring, Chloe judged he’d missed the mark.

With a bemused look, Dan stepped out of his way, holding the door as Lucifer passed out of the room. “You’re welcome,” he muttered, rolling his eyes when he received no acknowledgement.

Ella followed Lucifer’s path to Maze with her eyes before rounding on Chloe. “Hey!” she said. “We haven’t had a tribe night in a while. Are you free tomorrow night, Chloe? It’s Mega Mango Mojito Madness at Cafe Cubano, and it would be perfect.”

“I can take Trixie for the night,” Dan offered.

Ella rested her hands under her chin and batted her eyes at Chloe.

Chloe bit her cheek, trying to keep a straight face. “Fine! Yes, it sounds great, Ella. I’ll give Linda a call.”

“I’m gonna go ask Maze!” Ella’s ponytail bobbed as she headed out of the conference room.

Dan cleared his throat. “She can stay for the weekend.”

Chloe hesitated. It was her weekend with Trixie, and she was loath to give up her time.

“Please? I-I’d really like to have her again.”

“Dan, is everything alright?”

“Yeah…well, mostly. But actually, yeah. I just…after things almost went south with Mulvaney, Johnson, and that whole mess, I did some serious thinking. Well, that and”—his eyes darted to Lucifer chatting with Maze across the precinct floor—“realizing all _that_ is real. Kind of makes you think about what is important, you know?”

“I do.”

He gave her a long look. “Are _you_ okay?”

“I am. I really am.” She bit her lip and laughed a little. “I keep thinking I shouldn’t be, but I am.”

“That’s good, right?” he asked.

“Except…it’s a lot, isn’t it? Or it should be a lot? Yet I’m…mostly just happy?”

“You and him, huh?”

She felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Yeah, him and me.”

Dan shook his head. “I’m not going to say I understand that. But even when we were married, I think I never really understood you as well as I ought to have. As long as you’re happy, though…”

“I am. No doubt about that.” She put the lid back on the box, feeling inexplicably awkward.

Dan cleared his throat. “So…can I take Trixie this weekend? It would be…I’d really like to. You can have next weekend instead?”

“Sure, Dan. Let’s plan that.”

“Great! I mean, I appreciate it.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Listen, I’m going to need the conference room, if you’re done. Detective Rodriguez is coming over shortly for followup interviews with me and Lucifer.”

Chloe winced. The Devil only knew what Lucifer would tell Rodriguez. And her partner in close contact with IAG twice in one month—it was one of Chloe’s worst nightmares.

* * *

Chloe blinked in surprise as Detective Rodriguez stopped by her desk late in the afternoon.

“What can I help you with, detective?” She smiled up at him.

“I was hoping to talk to you about Gavin James. He was one of the officers Ray Johnson named.”

Chloe nodded. She knew that already from Lucifer, and it had turned out it was his pocket knife Dan had been tasked with stealing. “He’s confessed to Aaron Wiśniewski’s murder. I can’t imagine he won’t be forthcoming about the rest,” she offered.

“Oh, he’s not denying anything. It’s just that we believe he had some of the contacts on the smuggling end of the operation that Johnson didn’t have.” Rodriguez paused, looking thoughtful. “And he says he’ll only share them with you.”

“That’s strange. But I’m happy to talk to him, if that will help with your case.”

“That’s much appreciated, Detective Decker. He’s being held at the Metropolitan Detention Center, and I’d like to have you interview him there.” He glanced across the precinct at the evidence lab, where Lucifer was laughing while he chatted with Ella. “He was very insistent that your partner _not_ be there.”

“That’s…fine. I’ll go over tomorrow morning.” Chloe thought about how she might get Lucifer to stay without offending him. To Rodriguez, she said: “They didn’t hit it off from the start, even before James was a suspect, and to be taken down by…a consultant….”

“Hum,” Rodriguez said. “I was also hoping I could clarify the timeline of that night a bit. Dan explained how he managed to redial the last number on his phone before his captors destroyed it, but I’m having trouble figuring out how Mr. Morningstar got from the Port of L.A. to Anaheim that quickly. Are you sure the times on your report are correct?”

“I suppose…they might not be correct down to the minute. We were staking out that warehouse for a little while. What did Lucifer say?”

Rodriguez’s smile was bemused. “That it wasn’t far as the Devil flies. He’s a strange one, your partner.”

“Erm,” Chloe responded.

* * *

Chloe arrived at the Metropolitan Detention Center around midmorning. After a short wait, she was led to one of the interview rooms. Gavin James wore a blue jump suit, and his cuffed hands were clipped to a metal bar welded to the table.

Chloe glanced at the restraints.

The guard shrugged. “The prisoner was acting…erratically…when he first arrived. Just a precaution.”

James looked up. “It’s okay, detective.” His voice sounded hoarse. “Thank you for coming.”

Chloe took the seat across from the disgraced officer as the guard stepped outside. Rather than turn on the recorder on the table, she pulled out her notepad. “I understand you’ve agreed to provide details on your smuggling operations.”

He leaned forward, glancing right and left before settling his eyes on her. “Is it real? Is it true?”

She took a breath, unsure. But… “Yes, it’s true.”

He paled, looking as if she’d yanked his last hope away. “But how? How can it be true?”

She shrugged, feeling no sympathy for the man. “He’s the Devil. But you know that already.”

His stilted nod and heavy swallow wasn’t followed by any further words.

“Now about the smuggling…”

He flinched but began speaking, fingers twitching occasionally, as he spilled out an explanation of logistics and the names of those they bribed or cut in. In the end, the list on her notepad included a handful of longshoremen, including a supervisor; a ship agent; a harbor pilot; a CBP officer, and two more shady import-export operations like Losopa.

“That’s it?” she asked, but she seemed to have lost his attention.

He shuddered, his restraints rattling. “When he…when he held me and _showed_ me, I saw flames and torment spreading forever and ever in front of me and...and I saw _him_. I’ll never get that out of my head. Never. I can see it now.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. “You’ll testify about your operation?” she asked instead.

“I’m damned, aren’t I?”

Tapping her pen on her notepad, she considered him. “That’s more my partner’s area of expertise.”

His eyes went wide. “Your…partner.” He blinked. “How? How can you…? Knowing what he is?”

“What he is? What he _is_ is a better man than you.”

“But…you _saw_. I know you saw. You stood there and watched while he…while he… Like it was all okay. Like Hell wasn’t in that room with us. Like he wasn’t a monster.”

It was too much. Chloe slapped her hands on the table. “He’s _not_ a monster.” She rose looking down at James. “ _He’s_ not the murderer chained to this table.”

“He’s worse!” He jerked his hands, the restraints going taut as he tried to gesture in his distress. “He’s the Devil. How can you…you’re supposed to be a cop!”

She contained her flinch, barely. It hadn’t felt wrong when Lucifer punished James, but a part of her felt like it should have. There were rules, weren’t there? Rules that were there for a reason? Sure, she bent them from time to time. Her thoughts jumped back to Lieutenant Robinson’s condescending disdain. Perhaps more often than she liked to admit. Because sometimes one had to take risks to find justice for the victims and their families, to see the guilty were punished. James had covered his tracks well and had bluffed like a champ until Lucifer pushed him.

“ _You_ were supposed to be a cop, Gavin James.”

His head fell, and he cradled it in his hands. “I know, I know. You think I don’t know? You think he didn’t show me?”

Chloe closed her notebook. “Thank you for your statement, Mr. James. _We_ expect you’ll cooperate if you’re needed to testify.” From his flinch, she knew her implied threat had landed.

He raised haunted eyes one more time. “How can you not see…how can you accept…? What’s _wrong_ with you?”

* * *

Ella’s choice of venue straddled the line between Cuban restaurant during the day and club at night. When they’d first grabbed space at the bar, tables still occupied the main floor, but at around 9:30 staff had spilled out from the back and whisked them away in a well-choreographed maneuver. Chloe was impressed.

Ella was bouncing only one round of mojitos in. “I’m so glad we could do this. It’s been too long since I’ve seen all my girls. I mean, it’s been at least since…” Her eyes went wide as she stuttered to a stop, her dark eyes growing damp.

Chloe felt her own eyes well up. The last time they’d all been together had been her train wreck of a bachelorette party. And Charlotte had been with them then.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Ella’s lip trembled.

When she came in for a hug, Chloe welcomed her. Ella had been close to Charlotte in the end; another unlikely friendship. Over Ella’s shoulder, Chloe saw Linda explaining the exchange to a confused Maze.

Ella pulled back. “Man, I wish she could have come out with us like this. I guarantee you she had _moves_.”

A row of shots arrived on the bar, and Maze raised one. “To fallen comrades,” she proclaimed before shooting it back.

A smile tugged at Chloe’s lips despite the sadness. It was good to be among friends. She raised a shot glass to join the toast and drank.

“Come _on_ , let’s dance,” Ella pleaded as the music grew louder.

Chloe held up her mostly-full mojito in excuse, and Linda held up a finger to say ‘one minute.’ But Ella managed to catch Maze’s arm. Maze threw them a put-out look as Ella dragged her onto the dance floor, but she wasn’t fooling Chloe. ‘Ellen’ wasn’t dragging Maze anywhere she didn’t want to go. Chloe’s lips twitched.

“Hey.” Linda leaned in, needing to yell a bit now to be heard over the music. “I’m really happy to see you and Maze reconciled. It’s nice to have the tribe back together.”

Chloe turned her head to yell back toward Linda’s ear. “I thought about what you said about moving forward, and I realized I wanted to.” The music lulled into a quieter song, and Chloe let her voice drop back to normal and sat back.

“You’re a good person, Chloe.” Linda squeezed her arm. “And I think it’s amazing how accepting you’ve been of Maze and Lucifer. Honestly, you’ve done so much better than I did. I freaked when I found out. And I mean _freaked_.” She gestured with both her hands, emphasizing the word. “Practically catatonic and then barricaded myself in my office for a bit. When I finally came down enough to _try_ to get back to normal, I acted like a complete loon for a while.” She laughed at herself. “And I still had to take timeouts for mini-panics a couple times a day.”

“Linda, I had no idea.”

“Luckily, I’m down to once-a-month freakouts at this point.” She deadpanned the last bit, and Chloe was pretty sure she was joking. “I mean it; you’re doing great. Beyond great.”

Chloe chewed her lip. She didn’t know how to ask what was on her mind. “Do you think it’s possible to be too forgiving or too accepting?”

Linda’s brow creased. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…I don’t know. Like, is it normal? Do you think it’s normal to be doing ‘beyond great’ with the whole celestial thing?” She dropped her voice to say ‘celestial thing,’ but the music went back up at just that moment anyway.

Linda heard or understood regardless. She leaned close again. “There’s not actually a good sample size on 'normal reaction to celestials,’ you know. But too accepting? You don’t let people walk over you, Chloe, so I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Having a big heart isn’t a bad thing.”

“No, you’re right. I’m being silly.”

“Drink your mojito and come dancing. It’s the perfect cure for thinking too much—tribal wisdom.”

* * *

Chloe’d gotten props from the entire tribe for staying out. So it was after one o’clock in the morning when her Uber dropped her off at Lux’s entrance. The line out front was as long as at any time on a Friday night, much to her amazement. As she approached the door, she stumbled. She glanced at the pavement looking for the non-existent hazard and then lifted her shoe to glare at the heel. She wasn’t drunk. Nope. A little tipsy, that was all. Her head snapped up, and she looked to see if anyone was watching.

Tremaine was working the door, and, to Chloe’s relief, he seemed occupied carding a trio of club goers. But he greeted her without looking up. “Miss Decker.”

Chloe refused to be embarrassed and squared her shoulders instead. “Evening, Trey. Lucifer in the club?” She knew it had been his plan for tonight.

“Yes, ma’am. He was playing earlier.” He held the door for her. “Enjoy your night.”

Gripping the railing overlooking the lower level of Lux, Chloe let the sound and energy wash over her. She was rarely here this late, and the club was at capacity. The lights flashed and the music pounded, the dance floor pulsing and moving like a single organism. She swayed just a touch before tightening her grip on the rail and blinking.

It wasn’t hard to find Lucifer. From above, it was easy to see the way the crowd flowed around him. Whether it was his magnetism or his good mood, everyone wanted a moment with him tonight. And he obliged with a word, a joke, a hand, a drink—before moving on to someone else. She wondered what the jaded LA club scene would think if they knew the Devil himself was their ringmaster. A good chunk of them might just shrug, she guessed, happy to be caught in his aura.

She wondered idly what it would be like to be caught—really caught—in that aura. Would it be much different than how she felt now? She pushed down the fears that had been plaguing her. It was stupid. She was _happy_. She wasn’t going to let something that might be nothing ruin that. She just had to keep telling herself that.

And besides—she wasn’t giving him up. Whatever God had done and whatever He intended, he was hers. She shivered at the strength of her possessiveness. It was irrational and probably unhealthy and not how the world worked. But the feeling swelled up in her, drawing her up until the wave broke and she was swamped with it. She felt it in her bones. In her gut. In her spleen. He was hers and she wasn’t letting him go. She damn well wasn’t going to for…stupid…cosmic…ineffable…nonsense…and wasn’t this what the mojitos and rum shots were supposed to have quieted?

When she pulled herself out of her tumbling thoughts, she realized he’d moved a little distance through the crowd. He really was incredibly handsome when he was smiling.

As she made her way down the stairs, he looked up. She saw the exact moment his eyes found her. If she thought he’d looked happy before… It felt like the entire room took notice of the change in his demeanor. And maybe it did, drawn in by him. But then the moment passed and the lights were again flashing and the music was again pounding, and the people on the dance floor were again lost in their own worlds. When he pushed away, the crowd melted from around him.

Seeing him making his way to the bar, Chloe maneuvered to meet him. She watched as Donovan, behind the bar, caught his approach and made to pour a whiskey. Lucifer held up two fingers. By the time Chloe reached them, he was lounging with his back against the bar, a tumbler in each hand. She slid to his side and accepted one of the glasses.

After eyeing her up and down, he asked something, eyes twinkling.

She couldn’t make it out over the noise. “What?” she yelled.

He leaned in close and rumbled close to her ear: “Girls’ night a success?”

She shivered as she felt his breath along her neck but pulled herself together. Raising the glass Donovan had poured, she offered a toast. “Very.”

The whiskey burned a bit and the smokiness was a nice antidote to too many sweet mojitos.

“Good night here?”

“Better now.” He rested an arm around her waist, and she could feel the heat radiating from him.

Taking another long sip from her glass, she leaned into his steady side with a sigh. She felt his lips brush her hair before he took another sip of his own whiskey. It was too loud to talk, really, but it was nice to be close. They drank and watched the revelry before them, his hand warm on her hip.

When she went to set her empty glass on the bar, Donovan was there to refill it. She’d have to hold onto her tumbler next time. She caught Lucifer’s wrist, pulling his glass toward her until she could tip half the whiskey from hers into his.

She clinked the two glasses and took a sip before he could tease her. He only shook his head fondly, bringing his hand from her hip up her arm. Turning his head back to the crowd, he began a teasing caress on her bare shoulder, playing occasionally with the strap of her dress. She watched him in profile as he sipped his drink, a light smile playing about his lips.

She felt good. Warm inside and out. Sliding an arm around his waist under his jacket, she turned toward him, pressing herself against his hip, bringing even more warmth. She shifted, wanting to get even closer. She wanted…she wanted…oh, no…she was drunk-horny.

She stifled a giggle.

When he tilted his head and his brow drew inward the way it did when he was puzzled, she caught his lapels and pulled him down for a kiss. She made a _very_ thorough job of it. She was fairly sure people were watching when she let him go.

“My, my,” he said pulling back. And his smile was downright predatory. Devlish, in point of fact.

She tipped back the glass, swallowing the rest of liquor and only just keeping from choking on the burn. “Why don’t we go upstairs?” She tried and failed to suppress another giggle. “Oh, no.”

“What?”

She glanced around the club. “They’re going to think I’m one of your”—she made air quotes—“conquests.”

He glanced down at her as he walked her to the elevator. “It doesn’t matter what they think.”

“Okay,” she said. Then she grabbed him and kissed him again, a sloppy, urgent kiss filled with all of her riotous emotions. When the elevator dinged, he pulled her inside.

She stumbled again as she entered the penthouse. Stupid heels. Why had she ever decided to wear them? She grabbed Lucifer’s arm and used him for leverage while she wrenched one and then the other off, tossing them into the middle of the room with disdain.

“You’re well and truly sloshed, aren’t you, my dear?”

“Mmmm. Probably didn’t need those whiskeys downstairs.” She reached for him, running a hand lightly up his shirt, under his jacket.

He pulled her close, trapping her hand in its exploration. She appreciated him holding her as the room was suddenly a bit…spinny. And his arms around her felt really good… She snapped back to herself after zoning out for a minute and pushed back to make a little space between them, reaching for his belt.

He stopped her hand.

“Come on, I want to have sex.” If only she wasn’t having trouble keeping her eyes open.

He wouldn’t let her continue, but he guided her toward the bedroom.

“That’s a step in the right direction,” she murmured.

“Darling, I will definitely take you to bed.” He helped her sit on the mattress.

She felt him pulling her dress over her head, and she lifted her arms to help him. She reached for him again, but instead he turned her, laying her on her side and curing up to rest behind her.

Her grumble subsided as his arm came around her. She pulled his hand between her legs. When he didn’t take the hint, she rubbed it against herself. But her eyes were falling closed and…

* * *

Lucifer watched his drunk detective sleep. So serious most of the time. He was glad she’d gotten to let loose. She was sweaty; her hair was an utter mess—probably from dancing; her makeup was smeared; and the noises she made in her sleep were far from delicate. She was absolutely stunning.

He propped himself on an elbow and caressed her hair. Despite his light touch, she stirred. He hadn’t meant to disturb her. The sky was only just lightening and she’d need more sleep than the three hours she’d gotten. He watched her eyes blink open, and, after a moment, focus on him. She smiled a hazy smile.

He really was a lucky Devil.

“How are you feeling?”

She groaned. “A little more coherent but like I’m going to have a nasty hangover once I finish sobering up.”

“I’ve some Tylenol…or hair of the dog if you don’t want to sober up all at once.”

She flopped onto her back and looked up at him. He leaned on his elbow and began carding his fingers through her hair. She sighed and smiled at him, but her focus seemed far away.

“That feels nice,” she murmured.

“I can do it all morning, if you like.”

“Right now, I think I’d be willing to sell my soul for it.”

Lucifer turned up his nose. “Darling, I’ve told you: The Devil isn’t interested in collecting souls.”

She rolled up onto her own elbow, mirroring him. “But what if I did want to. Sell my soul to the Devil, that is. What would he give me in return?” He studied her for a moment. She was smiling a little, and he thought maybe she was being playful, but she seemed serious, too.

He blew out a puff of air, looking across the room over Chloe’s head. “I suppose…” he began thoughtfully, “the Devil would have to give his own soul in return.” He brought his eyes back down to meet hers. “But tattered and bedraggled as that is, he would still be getting the better bargain by far.”

She studied him, the slight smile gone. “And if I want to take the Devil up on that deal?”

Lucifer blinked at her and then laughed. “Be serious, Chloe.”

Chloe frowned at him. “What if I am serious?”

Lucifer’s brow furrowed. He did not understand her. But he felt she should understand him better than that.

Chloe, seeming to sense his change in mood, chuffed out a laugh. She leaned forward and placed a peck on his nose. He sighed in relief as she settled back. But she seemed pensive again.

“Marry me,” she said.

Lucifer stared at her open mouthed. Of all the mad things that could have come out of her mouth. She wasn’t sober yet, but he didn’t think she was that drunk, either. Finally, he said, “Chloe, I’m not going anywhere, if that is what you’re worried about.”

She turned away with a huff, and got up, pulling the blanket around her as she headed toward the bathroom.

He heard the shower turn on and was left mulling her words, troubled. Trying to find the missed breadcrumbs. Trying to guess what Dr. Linda might surmise.

When she came back to bed, Chloe was wearing one of his shirts and her hair was towel-dried but still damp. And she looked a bit green around the gills. It was on the tip of his tongue to tease her for it, but he bit back his commentary when he took in her stormy expression.

She climbed back under the covers, turning her back to him and burying her head in the pillow. He hesitated, very much out of his depth. But her sudden erratic, if slightly intoxicated, behavior troubled him deeply. So he reached out, resting his hand on her shoulder.

“Chloe.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He studied her. If it wasn’t that she was afraid he’d leave… “Are you trying to bind yourself to me for some particular reason?”

She tipped her head toward him and met his eye. Her jaw set, and he was sure she wasn’t going to answer. She turned back into the pillow, but, after a few moments, leaned back to look at him again.

“I want it to be my choice,” she admitted through clenched teeth.

The words stole his breath. He was caught in a sudden memory of standing in a dive bar, holding an old photograph, questioning everything.

She was trembling with some strong emotion. Something with measures of rage and fear, he thought, but also pain and sorrow. Even as he couldn’t name it, he realized he knew it well.

“Oh, Chloe.” He pulled her close, folding her rigid form into his arms.

She buried her head against his chest, and he could feel her shaking with silent tears.

He stroked her back, helpless. “I suppose I should count myself lucky your instinct wasn’t to run away to Vegas.”

She laughed into his chest, but it was half a sob.

When she’d fallen asleep, he tucked her in carefully, and, with a sigh, got up to pour a glass of water and find the Tylenol. He added his flask to make a trio on the nightstand, and settled in the chair across from the bed. He’d make breakfast and coffee in a little while. For now, he watched her sleep and thought silent curses at his Father so as not to wake her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the last chapter! I hope you've enjoyed the journey! I know this is very late, and I wanted to say thank you for the patience and the continued interest. As some of you know, we unexpectedly lost a family member who was the caregiver for another family member. It was a lot and definitely threw life off track for a bit.
> 
> So very many thanks to ObliObla and ariaadagio for the beta read and support for this chapter. You were both wonderful and instrumental in me reaching the finish line.

The tantalizing smell of breakfast drifted into the bathroom, even though it was a little past noon as Chloe combed her hair. Her stomach rumbled despite a lingering touchiness. She felt better after the additional sleep, although her cheeks colored as she remembered her meltdown. At least the Tylenol was starting to kick in.

Lucifer had presented her with a pair of jeans and a soft sweater still bearing their tags. Her size; her style. She wondered when he’d gotten them. That he had them was weird, presumptuous. But now that she knew the truth—that he really wasn’t human—little oversteps like that made more sense, and she realized judging him by normal standards would never work. So she took the clothes in the spirit they had been intended and was glad to have them.

When she felt presentable enough for a (late) restart of the day, she found him placing, with impeccable timing, a plate with eggs, bacon, cut fruit, and an English muffin onto the bar. And of course he’d set out a placemat and cloth napkin. A flower in a stem vase.

With a groan, she slid onto a stool and dug into the eggs with gusto. She ignored both his gaze and his smirk. She hadn’t been sure before the first bite, but food was exactly what she needed. Half a plate later, she was starting to feel more human (ha!). She breathed deeply from her coffee cup before taking a sip.

He chuckled to her left.

Fork hovering half raised, she tipped her head in his direction. He was sitting on a stool facing her, leg drawn up, ankle resting over his knee, lines of his crisp blue suit neat.

He gestured for her to continue with one hand, balancing an espresso on a saucer in the other. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“You aren’t eating?” she asked him.

“I did earlier. Though I’m quite enjoying the show.”

She shot him a dirty look but wouldn’t let him dissuade her from enjoying the meal. The aroma from the plate was far too appealing, besides. She didn’t acknowledge him again until she put down her fork, finished.

His expression, when she turned to face him, was much more serious than it had been minutes earlier.

“About last night…” he started.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Lucifer took a sip of his espresso.

“Okay, okay. I do want to talk about it. I don’t understand how you can be so calm about this.”

He chuffed out a laugh. “Darling, I ran off, got married, pushed you away, and very nearly ruined my chance at, well, this.” He gestured between them.

When he put his actions like that…didn’t that add a whole other layer to that dark chapter in their past. She frowned. Was this what his life was like? Doubting _everything_? “But you did come back. And here we are.”

“I’m hardly sorry for that, my dear. We’ve been through so much to get here that I’ve had to ask myself: if He were controlling us, would He go to this much trouble by design?”

“I don’t _know_.” She dropped her coffee cup too hard onto its saucer. “And so what if his interference was just that initial…initial… _whatever_. How is that better? How do I know I’m _me_?”

Lucifer tilted his head, puzzled. “I don’t…”

“What if He made me to be accepting, forgiving, whatever? Everywhere I turn, I’m questioning myself.”

Lucifer stiffened, drawing back. “Do you wish to be…meaner?” He looked bewildered and his next words were quiet. “I _like_ who you are. Very much.”

“But it’s not how things are supposed to be! It’s not right.”

He stared, wide-eyed, and she bit her lip. She knew he didn’t understand from their last conversation about this. He wound himself up endlessly with his fears of being controlled, but being created by God was the natural order of things for him.

“Look, it was just a long night.” She pulled out her phone and thumbed over to the Uber app. “I promise I’ll feel better after a little more rest.”

He curled his hand around hers, squeezing her phone against her palm. “Why don’t you take one of my cars?”

She hesitated, thinking of the collection she’d seen many times in his garage. His cars; his lifestyle. But they were dating. People who were dating let each other borrow cars. That was normal. Normal was good. “Okay. But something sensible.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, at least the most sensible one you have.”

His grin said, _as if_ , but he merely replied, “I’ll collect the keys,” before disappearing behind a decorative stone wall.

Chloe eyed her heels with annoyance but strapped them on nonetheless. She found her dress folded neatly in a bag sitting by the elevator.

“The Bimmer should fit the bill, I do believe,” Lucifer said, just to her right, startling her.

Her fingers ran across his palm as she took the key fob from him. She’d collect Trixie; get through chores for Monday; call it an earlier night. She’d sleep and get a clear-headed start tomorrow. She could accept matters and be happy, couldn’t she? That would be best. And yet…

“I just can’t get it out of my head. Knowing what you’ve told me, everything you’ve said about your father, _why_ I…” She took a deep breath. “Whether he made me to feel the way I feel, want what I want. Some of it…some of it…doesn’t feel _normal_. It doesn’t make any sense.” She made a sweeping gesture, not sure herself what ‘it’ was meant to encompass. “Why am I so _okay_ with everything? Why—” She shook her head. She really wasn’t explaining well.

Lucifer went still, and when he spoke his voice had no inflection. “Why are you so ‘okay with me’ is what you mean?” He looked at her without blinking for a long moment. “Do you…want to stop seeing each other? Take a ‘break,’ perhaps?”

“No! No, that’s not—” The implication of her words hit her all at once. She drew in a shuddering breath. “Lucifer, I’m sorry. That’s really not what I meant and that’s definitely not what I want.” She took a step into his space, resting her hands at either side of his neck. “It’s not.”

He accepted her conciliatory touch and wrapped his fingers around her upper arms, but his posture remained stiff. “It’s okay, Detective.”

 _Detective_. “No, it’s not. That wasn’t fair. I’m-I’m just overwhelmed, you know? All of this celestial stuff—it feels so big and out of my control.” She ran her fingertips along the ridge of his cheekbone, taking in the feel of soft skin, so unlike the texture of his other face. _Including how I feel about you_ , she didn’t say. “Can we just, I don’t know, pretend I didn’t have this freak out?”

After a moment, Lucifer nodded, a slight movement of his head, and she stepped back, letting her hands fall.

“If that’s what you desire.”

She frowned. She didn’t want him subjugating his own desires, but she was tired and hungover and overwhelmed, and it was easier just to follow him into the elevator.

* * *

Sunday. It was Sunday, and Linda was hungover. Hungover and tired. Hungover and tired and her feet hurt and she needed a shower. So she was less than pleased to find an agitated Devil on her doorstep.

At least, she supposed, she should be grateful he hadn’t barged in like he would have at her office. With a resigned sigh, she stepped aside and let him in.

She collected a notepad and found her glasses before taking a seat. “I take it something has happened that can’t keep until Monday?”

He paced until she gestured to a seat.

“You have to help me, Doctor. It’s the detective. I think I’ve…unhinged her, and I need to know how to fix it.”

“Chloe seemed like she was fine last night.” Not entirely true but not unhinged, certainly.

Lucifer leaned forward in his seat. “That’s just it, Doctor. She’s _seemed_ fine. All this time. With _everything_.” He clasped and unclasped his hands repeatedly. “But she’s not—not really.”

Linda worked to keep her placid therapist’s face in place despite her trepidation. “Okay. I’m hearing your concern. What makes you say that?”

“This morning—she was acting…well, not like her normal, annoyingly-sensible self. She’s caught up on the whole Father-sending-Amenadiel-to-bless-her-mother sitch. And I—” He spread his hands. “We’d talked about it already. A few times, in point of fact. And she seemed fine. She all but said she was fine. But, Doctor, she wasn’t fine. It feels like she was lying to me.” His pleading eyes met Linda’s. “She’s a good person; why would she lie to me?”

Linda considered approaches before settling on one. “We’ve talked, many times, about your concerns regarding your father’s involvement in your life. Should we expect it to be any easier for her?”

He snorted, looking away. But, when she let the silence hang, he offered a reluctant shrug.

“It sounds to me like she’s struggling with something difficult for her. Is that fair?”

His eyes snapped back to hers and his words were sharp. “The difference, Doctor, is that I didn’t pretend. She knows how much I value the truth.”

“Lucifer, that may be. But is it possible she’s denying the truth to herself? Wanting to _believe_ she can handle everything that’s been thrown at her these last few weeks, even if maybe she can’t?”

He made a face and waved his hand dismissively.

“She’s allowed to be confused, isn’t she?” Linda pressed. “To be uncertain?”

He didn’t respond.

“Isn’t she?” she reiterated.

He hissed as if struck. “Of course she is! But she’s…she’s supposed to”—he was clenching his hands together so tightly his knuckles were turning white—“to trust _me_. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to works? And yet she…yet she…”

“Yet she what, Lucifer?”

He forced his hands apart, running them along his thighs instead. “She didn’t believe me when…” He looked away.

“Lucifer?”

He leaned back into a faux-open pose that she’d long ago learned was defensive, and he drummed his fingers on the back of the couch, faster and faster, as the silence drew out, until at last he snapped forward in his seat.

“She didn’t believe me when I tried to tell her about Cain. She didn’t believe me when I said that I’d been Devil-napped! Is that what you wanted to hear?” His dark eyes were fixed on her.

She held his gaze. “It’s okay, Lucifer. You can be angry at those you care about.”

“I—She’s…she’s still with me. Knowing who I am…after everything I’ve done. How can I…?”

“You can. You’re allowed. And no one is perfect.” She held up her hand to forestall the comment she could tell was on the tip of his tongue. “Not even Chloe.”

His mouth twisted like he’d bitten something sour, but he didn’t answer.

“Lucifer, why are you feeling upset right now?” When he still didn’t answer, she gave him a stern look. “Lucifer.”

“Fine! Okay. This morning, when she was so _not_ fine, she _said_ she was hung up on the idea that Dad made her who she is, but it _feels_ like she thinks she shouldn’t want to be with me.”

“Has she said that?”

“No. The opposite, in fact.”

“Is there a reason you don’t want to give her the benefit of the doubt that she means what she says?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “ _Doubts_ are exactly the problem, Doctor. Mine, hers. And I can’t help but feel responsible for making her doubt herself, though even you can’t argue that this time it _is_ my father’s bloody fault.” His anger deflated then, and he pleaded: “Tell me what to do.”

Linda sighed. Chloe was caught up on the same unknown that had tripped up Lucifer for so long—if that wasn’t so infuriatingly frustrating, it would be almost comical. What had God thought he was doing with all this?

“I appreciate the irony,” Lucifer said into her silence.

“Do you understand why the idea she was created by God might be scary for her?”

He exhaled loudly and shook his head, spreading his hands. “Of all the things, why is _that_ the issue? I’d understand if she thought she was being controlled by Dad. But this—if she wasn’t herself, well, she wouldn’t be herself.”

Linda carefully considered the line she was treading. For all of Lucifer’s many, many issues regarding his father, he’d never questioned that his nature was his own—and that was hardly a track Linda wanted to send him down. “But do you think the idea that someone had a hand in her creation is one Chloe’s ever had?”

“Probably not, but what difference does it make?”

“Some of us humans take a certain comfort in randomness, and she’s lost some of that.”

“It’s better than taking comfort in his Plan, I suppose,” he said.

Linda let him glare at the ceiling for a moment before continuing. “Let’s look at it from your perspective. You had…similar…issues regarding your father’s role in the detective’s birth, but you overcame them. So tell me—how did you?”

“Oh, that’s brilliant, Doctor! I’ll send the detective to you, and you can fix her. And the second time around I’m positive you can do it much more quickly.”

“Lucifer, that’s not… I’m not Chloe’s doctor. If you want to help her, why don’t you think about what helped you. What got you over your fears about your father’s involvement in her birth?”

Lucifer sat back, shifting in his seat, looking uncomfortable. “I suppose, it was mostly what you said: I didn’t know what he intended, and I was just making excuses.”

Linda nodded, encouraging him to go on, and he nodded with her, waiting for her to take the lead. She won out.

“I also realized by trying to keep our relationship, well, friends-without-benefits, I was still letting him control me, and maybe I wasn’t letting her make a choice?”

Linda kept nodding.

“And that even if I can’t control what he does or maybe even how I feel, I can control what I do. So I was making a choice?” He ended it on a question.

“That’s very good, Lucifer.”

He preened for a moment under her praise before shaking it off and leaning in. “But how does that help me, Doctor?”

“You can talk to her. Let her know you understand what she’s feeling. Share your thoughts about it. Show her she’d not alone. I think that will go a long way. I doubt she has anyone else to talk to about this, and nobody else who would understand.”

“I can…do that.”

“Just—be sensitive. This is her birth we’re talking about, and it’s a big, frightening thing to think about.”

He nodded, slowly at first and then with increased vigor. “Thank you, Doctor! Don’t forget to bill me for Sunday rates.”

“I won’t; don’t worry.” She gave him a fond smile, hoping for the best.

* * *

Chloe sped a bit, just a little, on the way to Dan’s, glad Lucifer wasn’t there to look smugly at the speedometer. She was late to pick up Trixie.

Halfway down the walk to Dan’s building, she heard a familiar voice calling her from behind. Amenadiel. She hadn’t seen him since the last time she’d run into him here. Taking a breath, she turned to greet him.

“Chloe, it’s good to see you again! Are you coming out tonight, too?”

Shaking her head, she said: “Just picking up Trixie. Dan’s all yours.”

“Oh, good. I made a promise to look after him. Although he hasn’t made it easy for me. I think he’s been avoiding me, same as my brother. But he called me this morning! We’re going to see a show at the Improv House.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “You see, Chloe, improv is a kind of show where the performers enact comedic situations that they make up on the spot and—”

“I know what improv is, Amenadiel. But…I’m glad you and Dan are hanging out.”

He smiled and nodded, looking pleased with himself. “I am as well, Chloe.”

Chloe bit her lower lip, debating whether to engage Amenadiel about the matter that had been consuming her thoughts.

“Chloe, is there something I can help you with?” He waited for her response, serene.

“Last time we met…last time we met, we talked about your father, um, making me for Lucifer. I’m trying to get my head around that. _Why_?”

“Ah,” Amenadiel nodded. “I’m sorry I can’t provide more insight into that. Humans like to say He moves in mysterious ways. That really is true. There’s not always a clear A to B to C. It’s…often foolish, even dangerous to assume you know what He intends. Even angels have gone astray thinking they know what He wants.”

“Lucifer?” Chloe asked.

Amenadiel snorted. “Always. But not just Lucifer. Many of us have been…dangerously wrong about what father wants. It’s easy to go too far when you’re too certain.” Amenadiel was looking away now, almost talking to himself.

“So, you can’t tell me? Why God put me here?”

Amenadiel shook his head. “I know Lucifer doesn't trust anything Dad does, but I still believe, whatever the reason He sent me with that blessing, it was for the best. You’re a good person, Chloe, and I’m glad you’re here.” His smile practically bled earnestness.

“Uh…thank you? But do I…do I have a choice? About serving this purpose, whatever it is?”

“I have to believe you do. I’ve come to realize, recently, that even we angels have more control of our fates than we ever believed…”

His eyes glistened, his gaze distant, and Chloe…just couldn’t. “You don’t know, do you?”

“I’m sorry, Chloe, I don’t. But I have faith. I’ve already seen so much good…”

Chloe raised her hand, biting back her frustration. “Give me a minute to collect Trixie?” she asked, instead.

“Of course.” He nodded ever so patiently.

Chloe headed up the stairs, shaking her head all the way. Lucifer’s brother could be so…infuriating.

“Come in!” she heard Dan call when she rapped her knuckles against the door.

When she strolled into the apartment, she saw Trixie on the couch, transfixed by a gaming system they didn’t have at home, and Dan in the kitchenette throwing plates haphazardly into the dishwasher.

“Trix, your mom is here,” he yelled to their daughter. “Go grab your bag.”

Trixie didn’t take her eyes off the TV, hollering back, “But, Dad, I’m almost at the end of the level!”

“It’s okay,” Chloe said. “I’ll get it.”

Dan’s “second bedroom” was barely a den, fitting the twin bed and a small set of drawers and not much else. But they’d decorated it with stars and mermaids and astronauts. A small fishing net hanging in one corner was laden with shells and starfish. It was so different than Trixie’s room at home, but still so her.

Chloe found the designer blue backpack (a gift from Chloe’s mom) thrown into the corner, unzipped and empty. She bent down with a sigh, picking it up and stuffing it with the dirty clothes from the weekend that had been strewn at the foot of the bed. She lifted the bed skirt and looked under the bed, finding five dirty socks, two pairs of leggings, Trixie’s favorite (and formerly missing) sweater, and a purple hardback notebook with a cheap metal lock across the pages. Smiling, she left the diary in place and collected the clothes, shoving them into the backpack as well.

When she stood, she caught her reflection in the mirror above the chest of drawers. Photo strips from a booth on the boardwalk were stuck into the frame—Trixie and Dan on various occasions.

From the doorway, she watched Dan as he watched Trixie playing her game. He looked up and grinned at Chloe, and she realized it was the first time she’d seen him smile in a while. She smiled back, but then Trixie was yelling, “Yes!” and tossing her controller down to do a little dance in her seat, her hands raised in triumph. Chloe’s smile widened until… “Suck it, androids!”

“Trixie!” she and Dan said in unison.

Trixie’s arms fell, and she looked ever so slightly chagrinned. “I mean…sorry, androids?”

Chloe hid her smile. “Monkey, why don’t you use the bathroom before we leave?”

Her daughter shoved off the couch with an eye roll Chloe feared was modeled off her own. “O-kay, _Mom_.”

Chloe shared a look with Dan as Trixie scampered into the bathroom. She walked over as he stood, and he surprised her, pulling her into a big hug, almost Ella-level.

“I, uh, is everything okay?” Chloe asked.

He pulled back, looking at her. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking...about some things I’m not proud of. I…Listen, Chlo, I’d like to find some time for you and me to sit down and talk.”

“O-okay.”

“Nothing urgent, but soon?”

“Yeah, of course.” She might’ve asked more, but Trixie returned, her hands still dripping wet from the sink. Chloe grabbed a paper towel from the kitchen and handed it to her daughter. “Come on, monkey,” she said on the way to the door. “You won’t _believe_ what I’m driving.”

* * *

Lucifer parked at Chloe’s, next to his silver BMW. Maybe he could convince her to keep it. After moving supplies for later from his passenger seat to the Bimmer’s trunk, he pushed open her front door.

Chloe was leaning on the island in the kitchen, next to her offspring, who was sitting on a stool chewing on the end of a pencil. A plate of cookies and a carton of milk sat between them. Chloe’s head popped up at the sound of the door, and her expression softened when she saw him. Lucifer felt a warmth spread in his chest, and fumbled with his cuff in distraction.

“Detective,” he said, and then, nodding at her child, “urchin.”

Chloe’s lip quirked upward, and she huffed half a laugh.

“What?” he asked.

“Just thinking I’ll never need to give you a key to my place.”

“Naturally not, darling.” He was touched nonetheless. Maybe things were more on track than he’d feared. But he’d still come here with Linda’s advice in mind: talk.

“Hey, Lucifer.” The child was waving him over. “Come see my picture for the cover for _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_. It’s for my book project in Reading.”

Lucifer strolled to the island to look over her shoulder. “Are you sure that’s Harry, then?”

“You’re funny. I haven’t drawn Harry yet. This is Hagrid and, see, his hut. Harry’s going to go here.” She pointed at a blank part of the page.

He snatched one of the cookies, popping it into his mouth. Chocolate chip. “Ah. Well, do be sure to include Fang. Not quite a hellhound, that one, but he has the look.”

Chloe had gone to the cupboard and pulled out a tumbler and the bottle of scotch he’d brought a few weeks earlier. When she held the glass up in question, he nodded. He slid to her side as she poured a measure, and he took it from her fingers when she finished.

“I talked to your brother,” she said.

He nearly choked. “Why on Earth would you do a thing like that?”

“I ran into him today. At Dan’s.” She tucked the bottle back in the cupboard. “He really doesn’t have any idea, either.”

Lucifer didn’t ask to what she referred. “Of course he doesn’t. My angelic git of a brother has to guess just like the rest of us… As if Dad would share His plans anyway.”

She shrugged, apparently not expecting a different response.

Right, well, back to the reason he’d dropped by. He threw back his scotch. “Come on, then, get ready, chop-chop. I want to take you somewhere. The urchin, too.”

“Lucifer, it’s already 3 o’clock. It’s late, and I have work in the morning.”

“ _Sundays_ ,” Beatrice agreed. “They’re the worst, ‘cause you know you have school on Monday.”

Chloe’s eyes crinkled delightfully when she glanced at her daughter. “Tell me about it, kiddo,” she said

When her smile faded, Lucifer caught her hands, pulling her to him, making sure he had her focus. “Trust me. Please. There’s something I want to show you.”

She searched his eyes and seemed to see the earnestness of his plea. “Okay, okay. Do we need to bring anything?”

“No, I brought what we’ll need and already put it in the trunk of the Beemer.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, stop worrying. I’m not taking you and the child to some den of iniquity. Devil’s honor.” He held up Devil horns rather than a Scout’s salute.

She snorted. “Fine. Yes. Just give me a minute.” She picked up the cookies and milk to put away.

“Where are we going?” Beatrice asked.

Lucifer bent down and whispered in her ear.

“Oh, yay!” The child grinned at her mother, as he’d hoped she would. “Don’t worry, Mom, you’ll like it. It’s nothing weird.”

Chloe shifted a dubious look between him and her daughter. Lucifer smirked.

“Nothing weird,” she insisted.

“Nothing weird.” He flashed her Devil horns again.

* * *

To her surprise, they arrived at the same stretch of beach where she’d once found him contemplating. Where they’d shared their first kiss.

“Lucifer, what…?”

He tilted his head and smiled. “Patience.”

He opened the Bimmer’s trunk and pulled out blankets, a cooler, and a basket of beach toys.

Chloe eyed the basket. “Where did you get _those_?”

“Theme night at Lux.”

“Ah.”

He spread the blanket on the sand and offered his hand to help her down. Chloe folded her legs underneath her. The afternoon was warm, but not unpleasantly so, and she closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sun and smell of salt relax her.

“Off you go. Play.” She opened her eyes to see Lucifer pressing the toys at Trixie and waving her off.

Chloe didn’t mean to laugh. “Trix, why don’t you build a sand castle? Lucifer’s never seen one of yours.”

“Oh! Yeah, it’ll have a moat and a gate and four towers…”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “Only four?”

“ _Six_ towers and _two_ gates.”

“Not sure that’s sound from a defensive standpoint. Maybe a postern?” At Trixie’s blank look, he added: “A small back gate.”

Trixie nodded. “Maze says it’s important to maintain the perimeter and know your exits. I think I’ll make double walls just to be safe.”

“Concentric curtain walls.”

Trixie wrinkled her nose. “Why do you need fancy words for gates and walls?”

Lucifer sniffed. “They’re not fancy; they’re precise.”

“Trix, go, or you won’t have time to finish the double wall.”

“Curtain walls,” Lucifer corrected.

Chloe threw him a glare. “You do want her to _go_ and build the sandcastle, don’t you?”

“Yes, child. Best of luck with the not-historically-accurate architecture.”

Trixie settled close enough to the ocean to bring in water for a moat. Far enough that Chloe and Lucifer had some privacy. He’d stretched out on the blanket, his long legs crossed in front of him, half turned toward her. She could feel him studying her and turned to peer at him in turn. He looked ethereally beautiful as the late afternoon light fell golden on his skin. The light breeze ruffled his hair, causing a couple of locks to curl on his brow, and she itched to reach out, whether to tuck them back in place or muss them further.

She shook her head to banish the distraction. “So, why did you bring me out here?”

“To talk—”

“Look, if this is about earlier, don’t worry about it. I was a bit out of sorts, I know, but it’s okay. I can handle it. I’m not going to fall apart.”

He sighed. “Do you know why I come to this beach?”

She shook her head.

“It’s one of the first places I came to in L.A. When I brought Maze here. A nice, quiet spot.”

“It’s a weirdly quiet beach.”

“The barrier between here and Hell is thin, dimensionally speaking. I think perhaps humans can sense that and stay away.”

“I don’t notice anything strange.

“Apparently not.”

“So you brought me here to show me another way I’m not normal?”

“No. No, quite the opposite. But apparently I’m flubbing this terribly.” He took a breath. “That’s not why I come here.”

She nodded, taking his hands. “Tell me.”

“I come to remember that He doesn’t control everything.” Lucifer glanced at her. “Sometimes I get a bit paranoid on that count.”

She refrained from agreeing to the obvious and cocked her head, confused about what any of this had to do with the beach.

“The ocean,” he explained. “It’s always changing; each wave is different from the last, and an almost endless number crest…crash…break every moment. It’s something both beneath and beyond Him.” They watched several waves crash against the sand before he continued: “Of course, Dad may have created the seas in some form long ago. Set processes in motion and whatnot. Not my department, really. But it is time and chance and even human intervention that gives us this exact moment, these exact waves.”

More waves hit the sand, and she let the sound wash over her. She turned her gaze from the water to his face as he intently studied the undulations. Maybe what he said was true—what did she know? But what did it change?

He must have sensed her study, because he turned to look at her. “You once told a suspect, ‘We can’t control what happens to us, only how it affects us and the choices we make.’ I’ve thought about that quite a bit, you know.”

She hummed. She understood what he was getting it, but when she’d said those words, she’d been so, so ignorant.

“I can’t tell you what hand Dad had in all of this or what He intended. Nor can I promise everything will be dandy, because, well, when is it, really? But maybe we can choose to make the best of where we go from here.”

“You, of all people, can’t be telling me to have faith?”

He huffed out an offended sound. “When you put it like that.”

She studied his face, and he seemed serious. “You’re okay with not knowing? Why your father put me here?”

He chuffed out a laugh. “Okay is relative. But it’s not like we have a choice on that bit. Just on what we choose to do.”

“What if it’s something awful? The reason I was put here. What if it’s something truly terrible?”

“Then it will be terrible.”

“What if—?”

He brushed a finger over her lips before settling his hand back on hers. “Whatever the what ifs, I want to be here with you, Chloe. I just need to know…do you want that, too?”

Her brow furrowed, and the doubts still tumbled. But, at the end of the day, the answer was simple. “I do.”

“Then that’s the answer. And to Hell with the rest.”

She drew a breath and felt lighter than she had in days. “To Hell with the rest,” she agreed.

When he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, she let her weight rest against him. They watched the waves as the sun fell lower and lower toward the horizon while Trixie built her well-fortified sandcastle, and Chloe thought maybe—just maybe—they’d find their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sharing this journey with me. This was my first long fic and my first fic with significant plot, and it has definitely been a journey, a learning experience and hell of a lot of fun. I want to say an extra thanks to ObliObla for the support from the beginning to the end. It meant the world.
> 
> Please let me know what you think! I love hearing from you, including constructive criticism. Seriously, I love talking about this show, writing, etc. And come find me on Tumblr! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hiromystory


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